Worrying Silence

Right. That’s me on the road. For three months. I’m in Senegal today, experiencing an extreme contradiction. A nice man in the bar from which I write is singing some fantastic Wolof tunes. Good. He’s accompanied by a Bontempi organ, with the cha-cha-cha drumbeat turned up very loud indeed. Bad. Not sure I can stand it for much longer. But before I flee, a note:

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