My Nairobi changes color like a white man. I giggle to myself thinking about the feathers I have ruffled with my beginning. See, in the morning she is indeed white. Peaceful. Thankful even, for the clean slate that is a new day. Only the early ones ever have the pleasure to meet her like this. She is like a beautiful woman who has been beaten down by life and has survived. Whose scars gleam mockingly at you, as if to remind you that the novel skin that covers where it once hurt is stronger than ever. If you are really quiet and you listen closely you will hear her saying, "Come at Me!". She is bare at this time. In her true form; her beauty so alluring you can mistake it for vulnerability. In the mor...

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