Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Slip sliding Slipway

Then I went carefully from post to post with my glass, and I saw my mistake. These round knobs were not ornamental but symbolic; they were expressive and puzzling, striking and disturbing-- food for thought and also for the vultures if there had been any looking down from the sky; but at all events for such ants as we industrious enough to ascend the pole.
Joseph Conrad, “The Heart of Darkness”

In Dar es-Salaam, I sip morning Savannah cider on the Slipway peninsula

Cider, Cinder and Smoke in my ear.

And Matuto in Maputo

A raven talks to me, but he neither has three eyes nor understands my Mom's crow-speak. "Caw."

Searching for Kurtz at the moment, somewhere in the heart of darkness.

I looked around, and I don't know why, but I assure you that never, never before, did this land, this river, this jungle, the very arch of this blazing sky, appear to me so hopeless and so dark, so impenetrable to human thought, so pitiless to human weakness. 
Joseph Conrad, “The Heart of Darkness”

Arabesque almond awnings and white ferro-concrete veils next to art deco arches of pastel hues.

Lost in a Dar daydream.
Slipsliding away.

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