That line was our calling card. We left it every WHERE.
From the Roundabout to the West End, From Straithbogie to Great Georges Street. From Spanish Town to Tivoli Garden.
I'd hear the bwoys whispering, "a who dat wid di dread?" or shout out, "ya queen sweet'n pretty, rasta, bless up!"
Or I'd see the screwface ladies who just kiss teeth, arms folded 'pon their ample chests, scowling. They didn't like giving up one nice prince they hoped would sekkle dung with ona dem. Can't blame them.
"Why ya watch mi?" he'd shout, laughing. "Jess watch yuself, now mon, nah watch MI." And he'd step on the gas............
Seriously --- WATCH THIS SPACE. Some news coming.
2 comments:
Beautiful portrait--can't wait to hear the news.
this story floods my brain with memories of the same...
give thanks joshua was always by my side ready to reason as an elder rasta, with word, sound and power fe mek dem back off and gowey. "iy nuh deh colaa of de skin, it deh LOVE in deh heart..."
tell dem rasta!
another great painting and story, vic...
p/l
-z
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