Inside of me there is a silent revolution. Since this morning I  wrote, delete, wrote, delete.  If I should share a secret that was shared to me. Yes, she said it was a secret with a stern warning not to divulge even to those closest to me. I was made to swore with the sky above not on a bible because there was none.  I was listening to a secret while we were walking in a park, I hardly heard her  when the train pass by above us,  I made her repeat what she said, so she  spoke out loud some passers by turned their heads, but alert as an eagle her voice got so low,  I saw her lips folding, furling, her tongue rolling, but never hearing a sound,  guarding her secrets to the ground.

There is a secret I want to share. And that’s what secrets are for, there is excitement, unexpected joy or amusement,  that reaction I want to witness first hand from you. How do I begin to tell you a secret, as soon as I heard there was no excitement. I voluntarily gave my attention with all my eyes and ears hoping to open a pandoras’ box. Hoping to evoke that same emotion of excitement and joy that I once had when listening to her.

The gist of the story is something like he said, she said, apart from that the entire story is blurry. So I decided to put two and two together. My audience were all eyes and ears, they too, seeking to find the whys and hows. After my almost genuine tale, I was beset with questions on all sides. I, too, am cautious, coming out with safe answers, otherwise my response is a typical, I don’t know.

Some of my listeners  understood my story by the sound of my voice, the quivering of my lips and the squinting  of my eyes, but my voice was low  so as to guard the secret. At the end of the tale I pleaded to all not to tell this secret away.

<a href=””>Evasive Action</a>


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