There are things here that I love, and they can’t help but bring a smile to my face.
The sound of the pounding of poondoo -- into the old wooden pestle and mortar, carved with lovely shapes and designs.
The sounds of the police singing in the morning --however much we tease it’s something I look forward to daily.
The sounds of music in the air, sometimes warbled from ancient old cassettes that have been played too often and too loudly, as people sing along.
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