An afternoon of walking and playing.
Walking through the city, I encounter many of these bottles flattened by passing cars and pedestrians, to such a degree they have become another part of life in Dakar. We barely notice them anymore, nor do we pay attention to the crunching sound we produce by walking on them.
Maybe in a dream or in another life Surrounded by the sounds of metal on metal, we find peace in seeing the old anew. Scraps of old cars whisper softly of the things they can become – life after life. From the first week. Walking in the streets of Dakar, with a new group of people, even down streets I have never seen or experienced. I can’t help but feel