I still remember, when I was a child I was always begging my grandfather to tell again and again my favourite story. He just peacefully rolled his cigarette, lit it, deeply inhaled the smoke and in the random light of the pipe he said the following words. It was drought, big drought. We had no thing to eat, no thing to drink. We prayed for rain, but there was none, the sky gave no answer. But there He came. The Black King, every step of his was blessed. HIM, the King of Kings, the Lord of Lords, the Lion of Judah. From our fathers we knew there will be the day he comes to us, to free us, His Imperial Majesty, from the house of David, the offspring of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba,
... read more