Tag Archives: depression



Photo Credit: Irene Namuganyi Photography

I come to this cafe often. The walls are painted in a dark creamy beige that reminds me of vanilla and ice cream and cinnamon and warm, soft pastries for some reason. Maybe it’s the whiff of brewing coffee that hits you the moment you enter the cafe. Every time I come here, my mind immediately goes to Cookie, his infectious from-the-belly laugh, froth and whipped cream, spices and sweets, breads and cake. It’s all so comforting.

This is the corner where I often sit. There’s a much more airy and open part of the cafe surrounded by very green, very much alive plants that create a cool comforting space. But I prefer to sit in this little corner of mine.

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“…pray for us sinners now and at the hour of death…” she prayed. Her lips moved fast, mumbling and rumbling over each word.

The room was dimly lit. At the very centre was an old statue of the Virgin in her customary blue and white robe holding her son in her arms. It no longer shone the way it used to and a few cob webs hang loosely from it and swayed in the soft breeze that swept the room. It was placed on an even older wooden table covered with delicate white lace. A few dozen stick thin candles were spread out on the floor right in front of Bati. Behind her was a little window that let in a flood of moonlight.

The flames from the candles licked the air as their red fiery and burnt orange light danced and bounced off the dusty walls. It shone brightly on the statue plastering a grotesque shadow on the rest of the wall above it, one that Bati decided to ignore. She kept her head bowed low, caught up in prayer.

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