AIDS

Describe AIDS here.

Not a steroetype, not a guilt, not a fear, not a loathesome monster. He stood in the sandy wind, leaning weakly on his car, as he wrapped his black leather jacketed arms around me and sighed like a desert breeze, his lungs free of the yellow dust of june. That was a month before he died, faded into a shadow.

I just listened to her cry, she who had lost both parents, three children, and two sisters to it, a disease like fire that swept through her ancient and tireless village. She recalled their young, round faces, glinting laughing teeth, soft evening songs. A tribe is dying, she said.