It been a real, real long time since Guyanese people had thing with sense to talk about...

I be a small boy. Fourteen, there about, a half dry white-wash of a number, that is fumble for it words...

"Kerilee was crying hard. She had lost her pen in the middle of mid-term tests. She had come to school that morning with two pens and..."

Ah wake up to me Auntie crying. She face de wet wid tears and she eyes de puffy, puffy. Ah hold Auntie hands and ask she, ‘Auntie Romona wha