Lagos! I love this place, it feels like home, like I am of it, in it. It is smokey and full—from when I step off the plane I can smell salt fish, palm oil and fires. And incessant horn honking accompanies all public movements. The crossing of streets is not to be taken for granted. As I left the Centre for Contemporary Art today, I stepped across the briefly empty street only to hear a shriek (mine?!) as the passenger on a motorcycle gently shoved my elbow away. (Please don't tell my Auntie.) It is amazing to see young school children navigate these roads. Lagos is a dance intensive of the highest order. And so it begins...
|in the neighborhood of Cabo Verde|
|approaching West Africa|