Iota suggested this: a photo a day. Tell me when you’ve had enough …
My eldest daughter took this one: she, her camera and a walking stick as a writing implement headed out to the Sand Island. Of Kenya she says, ‘it’s home’ (a place that might have been for her forefathers but never for her, not until now, when she isn’t away at University in snowbound England where she was born … it’s a complicated thing, this ‘belonging’). And yet, I note, she scribes Karibu in the sand.
Kenya this may be but a Tanzanian bids you welcome with the word.
I wondered who she was willing to her isolated patch of beach? The birds, who flock busily when the tide seeps out until Pili chases them all up again? A lonesome plane puttering through the powder blue sky above, ripping clouds to insubstantial shreds?
Or invisible, faraway passersby in the ether?