Short Story / Snow in Zanzibar (Analysis)

the palm trees sail in the Indian ocean, smiling and greeting sailors that were happy once. little children make cakes out of sand and scream for their mothers because someone is bullying them for some little reason that is still powerful enough to crash child’s world. you ask me to watch at you while you paint the noise in your salty canvas but don’t you realize, there isn’t any noise? photographs in fire, our past burns, and I feel calm, consolable. your footsteps tan, the sun is happier than ever before and the rustling silence sleeps, there’s no one disturbing the tranquillity of this island. when the palm trees come back, we’ll have a celebration and we’ll ask questions about the world where we’ve never been to. last time the mosquito, who sailed to the end of the world, told us the wonderful story about children playing with these white flakes, snow children called it, and the story was so beautiful that it made you cry, do you remember? what if the palm trees will bring this snow with them, what will we do? perhaps we’ll feed them mangoes and guavas, or do you think it’s too much? the ocean is tired, there’s plenty of time to wonder the world even if I go and sleep. good night, my love. remember, the rainbow will visit us tomorrow.

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