Day 367

A year has passed since I came to this place. News of a major snowstorm on the east coast of the United States does nothing to ebb the rivulets of sweat that flow from my pores in the 100 degree heat and humidity. The german shoots rats with his slingshot. His eyes gleam as sharp stones slice through the viscera of those helpless creatures. My post-malarial symptoms have begun to ebb. And still, no seeds have arrived from the NGO.