Timbaktu wore a different garb this time. Though I have been always been smitten by Timbaktu’s stark, ravaged beauty, her lush green, benevolent facet was no less devastating. The nights were filled with the dancing of the trees in the cool, silken breeze of the night, while the gusting wind played its own music with the leaves and branches of the trees. The mornings were filled with scores of butterflies, buzzing bees, chirping birds, cooing doves, clanking partridges, hooting guinea fowl and the scream of the peacock.
Rarely does one’s soul feel at such complete peace, silent and still, and in awe and in enchantment of something other than itself.
June 15, 2009