IT’S A WEST AFRICAN SEASON.

My skin feels like dry silk.

My body is so warm and my blanket has fallen prey to the chill in the air.

My cup of black tea is burning hot and my tongue is going to have to deal with it.

I want to watch the sunset as I sip my tea, so I step out on to the porch.

I take a sip and watch as the wind twirls a trail of sand in a cone shape gracefully before it lowers the sand particles and comes rushing my way.

I hold my hand up to shield my face from the incoming biting cold wind.

The wind dances away from me just as I feel a painful tingle on my lips.

My lips are painfully dry, even though I recall putting on a layer of vaseline before putting on a layer of orange flavored lip stick.

Oh well, a sip of tea should help.

I raise my mug up for a sip.

My tea is stone cold.