....4our

…Liverpool, 1888
I have been living with a woman whom i have also known as my mother for two years and I still don’t understand the woman.
I swear sometimes she acts mental. It is either my imagination or she smokes cannabis. Maybe she does; in a sly coded way. Last night I had an argument with Ikahinde. He said I wasn’t the best and it hurt me real bad. He told me I was weak for
wanting to be human; telling me to remember what I am. What am I?
Today I become the Lord of Leeds. How rare; a black slave to govern a county. But then I don’t even look black; with the
blood of Ikahinde and his Irish concubine, I became. What am I truly, I hate to be told by someone else.
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mmmm, what's for dinner? Ikahinde heard himself saying out loud; startling the bold woman in front of him with the peasant
slave boy. She looked every inch a diplomat; the kind of blood he liked to feast on in the wee hours of the morning, only
this was midnight. What did she look for in this part of town? And who is the strange looking colored lad by her side.