Holli's ramblings Preview
My cheek is smudged with red clay. African soil keeps me grounded, dirty, alive. Beads of sweat trickle down my spine over time and through the valleys of this continent for over a decade. I could escape it but only tangibly. The unmistakable pattern of living this life in this place is a tattoo etched on my psyche, coarsing through my veins. Forever.