Ch. 5, Pt. 4: Road to Podor – Sofi
Everybody was silent, looking out the windows at the unfolding landscape. The bus moved along Route N2 as the road began curving eastward. Now, we decelerated. On the left side of the road, I...
Tagged: art
Ch. 5, Pt. 3: Road to Podor – Ricardo
The barren landscape of sand and scrub brush stretching toward the horizon on both sides of the bus was interrupted by a line of steel towers, each connected to the next by three power...
Ch. 5, Pt. 2: Road to Podor – Hercule
“We’re going to head east now,” Raphael announced in French as the driver turned left on a road, called Route N2, directly in front of a large gas station displaying a sign with a...
Ch. 5, Pt. 1: Road to Podor – Raphael
Music drifted through the warm air. At one edge of the dining room on the threshold of an open glass door leading to the courtyard a tall floor fan turned slowly on its axis,...
Love Lost: Moscow
The moment I took the final step up the wide staircase and reached the third floor of the MS Sergei Yesenin, I stopped and looked at my left wrist, before recalling I had lost...
Ch. 4: Guet N’Dar
It was already too hot. Moving south across N’Dar Island, Lomax stopped, removed his cell phone from a pocket of his photographer’s vest, and checked the temperature: 29°C. I stopped next to him and...
Ch. 3: Ismael and Hamimu – St. Louis
It wasn’t too hot. The temperature on that Friday in St. Louis was agreeable, 22 degrees Celsius, while Lomax and I sat at a table under a big umbrella with remnants of our breakfast....
Ch. 2: Esby and Lomax – St. Louis
When a few minutes before 3:00pm, our driver, Joseph, who had said little since we left Dakar, drove us into Saint Louis, not far from the border with Mauritania, I felt my anxiety rise....
Under Cover of Night
Rain falls. Gustavo can hear it. The drops pound the glass of the bar’s lone window, closed to the black night beyond. But what happens here no longer matters to him. He is leaving....
Underneath the City: Moscow
That night on the boat I finished reading the yellowed pages of Notes from the Underground. I looked over the railing of the ship’s upper deck into the Moscow River, feeling the warm June...