Black men

It is a black man, who is offering me his seat in my local shawarma joint. In a world without reference point I am drawn back into my African home. He makes me cry, while I am flushing everything I ever believed in down the toilet.

Flying

I am in the midst of Europe - again. Here we don't have a clue about the world. We have lost every sense of relationship. Our own ideas are everything to us.