
Osaki Ibiba II — Frozen Oil
He opened the doors of his wardrobe and musty air wafts to his nostrils. A dozen or so pairs of identical navy-blue shirt hanging atop white-washed green khaki trousers in plastic hangers, stood there in the musty darkness like zombies waiting to be repossessed by someone. But in his mind Osaki saw them as sentinels … Continue reading Osaki Ibiba II — Frozen Oil