Sun-hot sticky air buzzing with the tinnitis of cicadas. The aggressive perfume of frangipani blossoms, loud as a fist to the jaw. Annoto-yellow palty pastry crumbling between the teeth, busting free the tender beef inside, punctuated by hot pepper flakes. “Sprang-a” sound of dub music warring with the amplified rant of a preacher, practising a hellfire.
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