Spit, spat, said the snake*

“O-bla-di-o-bla-da. Life goes on, yeah…” “O-bla-di… Are you sure? That doesn’t sound right. Is it English?” “That’s what I can hear”, I said. “Wait, the lyrics are in the album. Pair of dummies that we are.” “Yeah”, Erik said. “But remember, we agreed the lyrics can only be used as a last resort.” “Right. Let…

Pot-pourri (19)53

Lori’s diner, San Francisco, 2016. (Scotty? Prepare to warp) Sunset at my sister-in-law’s country house. Interior of Colombia. c.2015. (Sir? Haven’t you said you don’t much like sunset photos? I have. Said that. Scotty. Photos do poor justice to any sunset.) 😉 Vincennes Zoo, Paris. End of the 20th century. The last two polar bears…

An octopus’s garden

I once stayed in an octopus’s garden, under the sea. The time? Long ago. Around Woodstock. Though, in our neck of Africa, news traveled slowly. And I never really heard about Woodstock until two years later when I saw the movie in a cramped Quartier Latin cinema. The place? A small resort on the coast…

Crows

I needed to escape. The memories and the pressure were… too much. I’d come back to Nairobi from a tough assignment, covering civil unrest (PC for hidden-under-the-carpet civil war) in the north of Kenya, spending weeks in the bush. I’d been trying to get an interview with the rebel chief, whom, of course, the Kenyan…