Worrying bulletins are reaching me from Djenne: the building work for the new restaurant is taking too long, and we are not ready for that great untamed monster, the Rainy Season, which wreaks such damage on my fragile hotel. It has already sent out a vanguard in the form of a couple of early downpours. The arrival of the rain is always announced by skies of unearthly beauty, and when I am in Djenne and I see a sky like this I panic.
Now I am feeling rattled and need to get back, but can’t change my June 15th flight, so I am wandering around forlornly, imagining all sorts of disasters piling up in Djenne, not able to really enjoy my last days in this beautiful early summer Europe which will soon be gone again, and much missed. Why are we poor human beings so inept at living in the present? Why do we always want to be where we are not?