In confusion, in Windhoek. Why is everything spotless, scrap-less, in straight angles, and surrounded by watered lawns? Where are the scooters, the rusty cars, the peddlers, the fruit stalls, the people living their lives on the streets; and the smells and the noise?
Did I really land in Africa, or a totally different continent?
(Windhoek, Namibia; June 2017)
