Now. I walk down the hill of UN Drive towards my house in Mamba Point and I see her. It’s as if the Liberians who are randomly walking around on the street move to one side to let her go by. It’s like the Moses effect, when he parted the sea. She is like a…
I hit the streets once again without an umbrella in Liberia and after taking a mere seven steps, I have to go back in. Under some kind of porch, I wait to see if the rain gradually calms down. But the rain keeps pouring down. It makes sense; we’re right in the middle of the…
There is someone in the kitchen. It’s a young man of medium height. His name is Anthony and he moves stealthily. As if he were wearing socks instead of shoes. Anthony opens the pantry, takes out some fruit and brings it all out to Josep and I at the table. We have breakfast looking out…
The granite tiles at the Zaventem airport in Brussels are a stranger colour every time I see them. The marble I slowly discover increasingly adopts an expression that I cannot decipher. I walk past the gates and then more gates, Gate 3, 24, 55, 77, 91… there are fewer and fewer people at this end.…