It’s a little bit like the traffic jam on the highway. You make your way forward bit by bit – but not much happens. The dry savannah is like the flickering tar of the gray street. The zebra dreams of a water hole – a green stalk and a shady spot. Sure, it will soon be moving forward again …
It’s a little bit like the traffic jam on the highway. You make your way forward bit by bit – but not much happens. The dry savannah is like the flickering tar of the gray street. The zebra dreams of a water hole – a green stalk and a shady spot. Sure, it will soon be moving forward again …