She pointed to the horizon where the sun had finally disappeared. The stars weren't out yet, and the blue of the sky was turning to an infinite, deep black.
"The music told me," she smiled. "We spend our whole lives trying to fill the gaps. We think if we find the right person, the right job, or the right city, the 'missing thing' will finally arrive. But Int'engekhoyo isn't a hole to be filled, Lwazi. It’s the space that allows the rest of life to breathe." Int'engekhoyo
One evening, an old woman named Mam’ Ntombi sat beside him. She didn't say much at first; she just listened to the faint tinny beat leaking from his headphones. She pointed to the horizon where the sun
Lwazi closed his eyes. The music shifted, the bass dropping into a deep, meditative loop. For the first time, he didn't feel lonely in the silence. He realized that wanting "what is missing" was just another way of being alive—a reminder that there is always more to discover, even in the shadows. "We spend our whole lives trying to fill the gaps