"Where are the Egunguns going to arrive?" Where will they arise from? Are they going to cross a wall, hellish passage through walls? Fall from a roof? Come out of the ground like a statue of the Commander? The wait is long, and it is intended. […] Suddenly, a crowd movement. Children, in an alley, who start running faster than before. First laughter, then, very quickly, screams, howls. Of fear. Within seconds, all the toddlers fled, entering any home, provided they were out of sight (and reach) of ghosts. […] All the senses are brought into play with the dance of the Egunguns. There is the sound of the drums, their hollow voice, when the ghost pronounces his imprecations, but also the rustling of fabrics, the breath, when their dress brushes the face. A powerful, majestic breath, which crushes and impresses. This breath has an odor: that of sweat, perfume, smoke. The taste, again, with the dust, raised by their movements on the ground, which
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