The Girl With The Cardboard Port

I am eye to eye with a cobra, its hood extended, its head gently rocking from side to side, holding me fast in its hypnotic stare. I begin to sink into emptiness, where only this moment is real, where peace embraces my soul.
A brown hand, as dry as an autumn leaf, darts in front of my face. The brown hand becomes a body with a wrinkled face and shaved head-and extraordinary compassionate eyes. They hold me fast as I breathe in the mist. 'Leave this country white girl... I see you in fire... white hot ... it will destroy you much hate is coiling around you waiting to strike go home ... this place is not for you...
he whispers, rasping into the centre of my being.