Today I remembered that this is how Mum used to call you.
I heard her voice echoing around the house to reach your special place on that chaotic table of yours. Full of textbooks, notebooks and a table lamp that is on. You are sitting there as always your head tilted too forward and your forehead resting on your left palm while your right hand traces the lines of ambiguous scientific text while you speak them out. Your beautiful hair is draping downward hiding your face.
Hey Zounzoun. Mum is calling you.