I recently recieved an email from South Africa, wondering when I was returning to Africa and whether I'd consider an offer of accomodation.

Of course, the simple suggestion thrust me into a flurry of memories and fantasies and wishful thinking and..... nostalgic depression.

I'm thinking about white stone houses and brick walls with spike-tipped metal gates.... barbed wire and broken bottles glinting in the moonlight.... lizards and sunlight and sugarcane.

Just cuz I don't talk about it anymore doesn't mean it doesn't eat me up inside.

Following is a picture of Victoria Falls. I was there. It smelled good. This post took place just a little ways up from the bridge, to your right, on the bank of the river just before it curves around to where the water crashes down. That spot is called "The Boiling Pot" and people frequently die there.