A strong wind this morning, and I sniffle. I should be so fortunate to not succumb to anything worse while I'm here. One's health is always on borrowed time, and regular gratitude would not be out of place.
A nice ritual these days, with breakfast at Delices du Fleuve, and lunch at La Linguere, The Queen in Wolof. Apparently there have been some Drama Lingueres here - I mentioned that actors and actresses would be good residents here. So much here is about the mask, as anywhere else.
A kora concert yesterday evening in the cathedral, by Ablaye Cissoko. A short concert to a captivated crowd, and by the time we realized it, the cathedral choir sang the last half to a captive audience, or at least me, as they say all the tunes from Christmas Mass, though they did add more local songs which was nice. We then all went for dinner, only to be served by a woman who sung in the choir. Small world!
No evening chanting. Bon Al-Jouma. We are making up our own neologisms as we speak here. Good Friday, we hope to express. Good Mosque, we are probably saying. The waiter at La Residence seemed to enjoy saying 'kittos kee bitte' (kittos < thank you, in Finnish; kee < (of unknown origin); bitte < please, welcome, in German). I'm not quite sure if there is a weekend, or if there is one or the other, or a bit of both, signalled by the lack of chanting.
Visited Meissa Fall yesterday, who I am calling a magician. I suggested to S&J that they should consider expanding the scope of resident activities to magic. In the cool shadow of a street on the south part of the island is this oasis of black(smith) magic. What seemed to be the best boutique on the island, I told him, is also a storage space, a sculptural workshop, a bike repair shop, and a first-class metal dump. From a pamphlet he gave me is a poem by Louis Nucera:
On a le sens du velo
Comme on a l'oreille musicale.
Il y en a des velos
Dans la litterature,
Du velo passion,
Du velo poesie,
Du velo humour,
Du velo fou,
Du velo tendresse.
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