A lion emerges from the wall, not roaring, but listening and staring.
Where the wind once carried songs in Khoi and Afrikaans, where footsteps meant belonging.
He remembers.
Three eyes watch the street. Two, to see what’s in front of him. The third—ancient, intuitive—sees what was taken, what still aches.
In his paw, a key dangles. Not just to a door, but to memory. To the right to return. To unlock what was buried, taken, under concrete and silence.
He is nature’s witness — painted in a wall, yet alive.
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