It's a book of days and nights about clothing, food, and shelter. About plant, animal, and man. About mother, father, and child. About sun, moon, and star. Hoodoo was rich enough to travel on a boat to us when we could not reach Africa. Because of this, we still have unfinished business and a bill to settle. It gave us a blank check, but do you know when the bank opens and closes? When you arrive at the counter, do you know what to say? The great doctors of this do not wear a fancy robe and float on a carpet, but his wife does... What will you do with all of those "indian head" coins that your grandfather left to you? When you make your bed are you mowing the grass in the graveyard? What did the Congo man give to the Indian? Who was the child that saw it happen? Those pennies you make every day breaking your back when you rub two of them together to get what is fair out of grocery then worlds collide. Can you see the road ahead of you? Who is bothering you? Who do you want to keep around? Who is the Chief? Who is the King? Where is the tribe and where is the kingdom? Grandma's voice loud and clear, when it rains, it pours... Can you charm the god, goddess, and every planet in between? WHO ARE YOU? Can you make the world bend right or left as the rising and setting of the hot sun from the view of the field? Where in a world with no beginning or end? Can you call every genie from inside the lamp or behind the bush?
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