I was going through my old diaries the other day and I found entries from a trip to the south of Mali in Africa some years ago.
Rust is ripeness, rust. And the wilted corn-plume. Pollen is mating-time when swallows weave a dance.
Medina Coura market is a bit like an iceberg. The bit you see from the street is just the tip – it goes for what seems like kilometres back from the road with windy passageways between the myriad stores.
Last weekend we had a wedding just half a block away from my apartment. First I knew of it was the drums the night before.
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Shopping in Mali is fun – most of the time. In the markets are many little shops.