Among waters and mangroves following a path that seemed endless. Built, no one remembers when, for the fragile hand of man. Bordered by subtle boundaries that beset the path shouting desire not to end up drowned in sea and river waters. The horizon shows its destination.
There is no other way although this is absolutely unknown. The water mark of a barrier and no future for those willing to break the rules set by the centuries. The birds, along with the stems and leaves of mangroves, moved by the wind is the whisper that is pervasive at the time that people spend, in a hurry and head to the ground, with a clear direction. Loaded with bags and buckets, do not reveal their true purpose. With sad and tired faces, perhaps knowing that the path requires hours of rapid strides to find their purpose. The looks on the floor denoting the absence of a final vision, and the monotony of environment makes you go away from the innermost thoughts under heat and humidity breathe. The legs move when walking alone, at the ground does not lose the path that leads, inevitably, to your destination and let the mind fly between mangroves to find the best dreams.
Who knows if the rains of yesterday leaving the road without end, or if the target remains unknown hidden among the mangroves, or whether it disappeared last night.
After half an hour watching the time go by, you realize the amount of people who embarks on that path "lost." If there is a way there is only one destination?
embankment is possible that this was a simple moebius strip in which the destiny traced each, and the road-just-be built over time coated dreams. Marc
Chalamanch
(Photo Marc Chalamanch , Ile Egueye, Casamance )
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