Then I sliced his insolencewith a photograph of a nine-year old meholding his point-the-light-to-the-soup phone. F said Africans are ignorant in noisemaking for our wound—to dissect the world with a shrill. Ripping the canopies of schoolingoff the backs of little children with a sack of cobalt. In Katanga, Arthur said he digs the world to live in the world—to battle a shovel like his parents. Little children with faces as if the offspring of dust.