Njora’s Diani Beach
Bicycles creaked past them, sometimes spraying tiny specks of chocolate mud on their clothes as they solemnly walked home. No one said a word, and every ten steps Njora would have to slow his pace to let Kavi catch up.
Bicycles creaked past them, sometimes spraying tiny specks of chocolate mud on their clothes as they solemnly walked home. No one said a word, and every ten steps Njora would have to slow his pace to let Kavi catch up.
So, this morning I was scheduled to fly to Bamako Mali, as you must already know. I missed my flight. Having spent the night fretting about what I may forget and have I got everything I need, that I managed to forget what may well have been the most important thing: my phone on silent….