I love you, so much that I can't help myself. You are the flower arranger. You are covered with flowers, including thorny roses, fiery red roses, weird blue-green plants in the damp soil, poppies, strawberries on the cake, and blood dripping from the tip of the knife. They are the only poetry I have. My poems are all for you, and my songs are all sung for you. Kenyan rose.
——Duju Juluro