but is it fiction


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#1 - DAR

Downward facing trees line the streets of Dar. It was their strange lopsided little green palms pointing to the pavement that caught my eye. One stood peaking into our fourth floor motel/hotel window, the rest, all strange and other worldly, stood tall and short, dotting every alley, intersection and traffic round of a darling little city. i like it here.

Although a city, it’s slower here, movie slow motion slower, not cape town slower. Everyone looks like a mix of Masai and Arab, beautiful, dark skinned, going on about their business, unphased by the alarmingly hot and humid climate. They, long sleeved. Me, slightly grey from hurriedly applied sunblock, in an outfit that screamed ‘i’m on holiday’‚Ķsmiling with curious eyes.¬†

I was first rather confused about what it was I wanted to take back with me from our two days in urban Dar. Nearing our long noon walk to the city centre and national museum, I realised what it was. There it was, walking, like a boy who is playing with the idea of becoming a man. Black perfectly slacking chinos and charcoal Vans. I stood and stared.

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