It was almost one O’clock and the afternoon heat made him tired.

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Rupinder Chahal

May 1st, 2002

Ghettos, Guns and Gashes

It was almost one O’clock and the afternoon heat made him tired. He looked around for a shortcut. Ray-J then realised that spinning his head was not such a good idea as the polluting fumes seemed to get to his head quicker, making him dizzy. He then decided to take a cool shadowy alley.

The alley was about fifty yards away, but seemed much further in the heat. On one side of the street, the grey stoops stepped up to the graffitied apartment doors.

There was just a little air; the wind stood still. The sun clasped his skin as he struggled each step. The air swayed slightly when a truck floated past; the clinkering not heard as the sunlight drowned any noise. – The light was deafening just as it was blinding.

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He finally reached the sanctuary. As he paced slowly down the back-street, he felt the chill on the back of his neck, so he pulled the red basketball jersey out of his jeans where it hung, and slipped it over his sweat dripping, dark brown, muscle defined body.

“Yo!” He spotted the other boys from his posse, dressed in red bandanas, jerseys and doorags. They were passing round guns, pistols and rounds, which Nas had pulled out of a black rucksack. Jermaine shoved a “fo-fo” into his chest. After identifying the gun, he reached for the rounds and slid ...

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