The Vision

I will start with the vision. Not my vision. A vision that was given to me by an angelic friend. A vision of two little girls, standing under an acacia tree, next to a long low building, with an elemental wind of sadness whirling around them.

Behind the girls are rolling green hills. A black Morris Minor is driving through the hills, on the right-hand side of the road.

As the vision fades, two African women appear, placing the building, placing the sad, sad wind.

The vision gives me a structure for the fictional autobiography.

I will begin with Part II.

Outside the hospital. In Salisbury, Rhodesia. In March, 1971.


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