Art of Losing.

The last time I’d had to re-trace my steps I’d been in Burkina and’d walked bug-eyed past waterfalls until my legs hurt, then had to go all the way back;

this time I remembered Bishop’s poem and a little annoyingly (i.e., to always look on the bright side), thought at least I haven’t lost those memories.

The whole day was whistle-into-your-house windy. I could not stop listening to this song!

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Bonus: after our bags were stolen we fit on one motorbike!
Bonus: after our bags were stolen we fit on one motorbike!