Sheila and I part ways today. I to the beach and the Italian lido, she to the school and a pique nique. Nothing untoward occurs other than the dislocation of a roman shoulder and the farewell to his number 1 chef matre d who was off to amsterdam to wed and feared only the European winter.
I walk for 15 minutes unprotected in the streets amid the dust trucks old colonial architecture and the sea breezes. Dakar city of contrasts is less and less scary and more and more meaningful.
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