"Wading neck deep in a swamp, your revolver is neither use nor ornament until you have had time to clean it" Mary H. Kingsley (1897)

Evening Enchantment

The evening was beautiful: the dusk light almost magical.

The flowers in the front yard were bathed in gold.

A pack of dogs had climbed the water tower,

as if to view the setting sun.

Petals from the flame tree

fluttered down to decorate discarded coconut husks

and wall tops.

Familiar buildings were suddenly transformed by the glow of twilight.

People, who had sheltered from the intense heat of the afternoon, finally emerged from their homes, to stroll and chat as the pastel light began to fade.

An evening with neither crowded rooms nor trysts with strangers, but nonetheless enchanted.

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