This image floated towards me as we made dock. Everything was quiet, save for the occasional crunch of shoes in the sand, moored boats bobbing against crumbled concrete.
[-o-] The immanent arrival of images, much like the slow crawl of this stone deck, infiltrate our perception with subtlty - and before you know it, the whole bloody world is grey. And you're wondering: Is the only way out, a turn away from the image? Towards the affirmation of pure presence itself? But I like my eyes! You scream. Well, if this is the case, I would also suspect that we'll just be reinventing a way to describe the image- or its appearance, at least.
14/01/19 The arrival at Juffureh. We had just visited Kunta Kinteh Island, in the middle of the river gambia; the journey From Denton Bridge took us 2 hours up the river. We saw ancient prison cells and canons, and from there, leaving the island, we headed over to the nearby village. The return to the mainland took ten minutes, and the air stayed the same quiet thickness the whole way there. There! That was Juffureh.