Just a quick note from the Sahara.
I was missing indeed the way Africa always embraces with its air, how we feel hugged just by arriving. It has a different warm, a sweaty embracing one.
I landed close to a small village by the sea, or between the ocean and the desert. Going through the narrowed streets with solitary people, I was wondering if I can ever describe the smell… try to imagine a mix of curry’s and other exotic spices, tinted leathers and tissues, sweaty people and herbs and oils and sea, and bread… it’s good, trust me. It brings me other smell old memories.
Today I took the day off: yesterday I walked around 6 hours along the coastline.
I sat down at the docks after arguing the price of the fish. Arguing is important, it’s an art and it must be taken as so and expect to be hugged and touched all over while arguing: it’s part of the ritual. Mohamed brought then the fresh sardines and grilled them.
Because the souls and the winds don’t have much colour, here the palette goes from deep white to brown in all its scale getting bits of safran and red earth, to end at the blue of the sea and at the blue of the sky. But it’s the white and the earth that imposes.
Meanwhile I’ll try to photograph the smell of the streets. And the warming winds.
Related essays you should read:
Things, Winds and Emptiness without Void
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