I'm leaving the old intro here, but adding this- it appears the doves have taken over my blog for their fiction. Just as well, I was doing a piss poor job of updating. They're doing much better.

This blog is infrequently updated, full of incorrect spellings, misused words, and general bad grammar. It started when I was trying to use google+ (which I've since given up on) and discovered there was no character limit for posts. If you've known me a long time, a lot of these stories will be old hat. If you plan to know me for a long time, you'll no doubt hear many of them in person. But, folks seemed to enjoy them, so here they are.

Friday, March 1, 2013

the Seventy Seventh story

We had planned to spend our remaining four days in Djenne, but... we didn't. Instead, after one full day, we made our way back to the Carrefour and hopped another bus, this one going south. We got as far as Sikasso, jumped out, and asked folks what to go see. Unanimously, everyone I managed to communicate with agreed on this place, who's name translates to something like "Mosque of the Grotto". We hired ourselves a cab for the day, and headed out, expecting to see a mosque much like the rest of the ones we had seen.
But no. There are no photos of the wonder of this place, because it was too beautiful, and I too tired, to muck around with the camera. There's this one snapshot, and that's all. These rocks were worn with centuries of worship, prayer carpets made simply by so many knees kneeling in the same spot. There were droplets falling from this, the skylight, making a thin, sparkling, glowing veil. Mum and I, an agnostic and a raging athiest, looked at each other, and agreed that this was the right place to worship god.

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