The families
In their donkey carts
Loaded with goods to sell
At the weekend market
An anachronism
A paradox
To a Westerner
Like me
An anachronism
A paradox
To a Westerner
Like me
Two hundred kilometers
Away from
Anywhere
Nothing but gravel, rock
A winding strip of bitumen
And heat
Travel takes me
To places I could never imagine
Experiences I could never dream
Worlds which seem alien
So I stay
Experience all I can
Give reign to imagination
Until the alien seems mundane
In every little town
On every major street
No matter where I went
All eyes fell on me
He is a shadow
That is his essence
It surprised me
That I admired him
For his perseverance
For his tenacity
For his will to exist
For his endurance
Loading up with a new roll
I click, advancing the film
The shot I take is of a shadow world
I’m astride my bike as if in another realm