Gods in the Basement

The city remembers. And it is starting to forget.Kampala breathes. In the cracked pavements and smoky dawn markets, in the murmurs that drift from alleys no one dares name — the city has always carried its secrets in its bones. Kato has always known this, the way you know a story told so many times it becomes your own heartbeat. He just never believed it.Then the market stalls begin to vanish. Mur...