mozambique is happy and alive -- a breathing, sweating, dancing land of color and sound. in the morning before trenton is awake, i lay under our blue mosquito net and listen to trains, dogs, a muffled radio from beyond the walls of ‘young africa’. children play loudly and the air is still cool, carrying the familiar smell of smoke and wet ground. i pray and thank God for a new day, for our lives and the blessing of being together, of being in a place so filled with love.

abóbora - pumpkin

sopa da abóbora - pumpkin soup

'I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.'

Sylvia

COLOR

outside the ‘young africa’ gate, i sit on a tire with a dozen neighborhood children. rita, the three year old who greets us each morning when we buy bread and bejia, settles into my lap and offers me a battered tangerine, warm from her small fists. i accept, peel the fruit and hand her half, happy with the afternoon sun, good company and smell of citrus on my fingers.

i feel so at home, so myself.

water damaged film from the falls -- the last photos from my canon AE-1, a good friend and teacher for the past two years.