When I was giving my fourth delivery of last year of my thirty-eight babies, there was a lot of ‘shhiulumizh’ coming out of me. More so than during any of my previous delivery experiences. In our dialect, the blood is called shhiulumizh. Shhiulumizh is white-yellow. Our body fluids are pretty screwed up.
Oh I forget to tell you that we cockroaches don’t even have tears. You know we always hear those stories and anecdotes from the enemy, about how they cry and cry for things ridiculous to cry over. The fable is that the humans would cry over a lost one.
