“He coughed out the words, which took shape of his cigarette stained teeth turned into birds bereft of wing. He stammered the bloodied words into the palm of his hand, polished them into clearness with a stainless handkerchief, and gifted them with wings, and sent silence, where all words uttered in the universe, and in all languages on the planet, are stored for all time, or forgotten forever.”
― Biyi Bandele-Thomas, The Street