The Cure

I felt miserable. Stomach flu. Rolled out of bed and reached for shoes, keeping the head up to reduce the flow of blood to the temples.

I had no plans, no ideas, just a vague regret that I did not stay in bed as I stepped off the bus and into the heart of bONGOLIA. Some clown was whacking out a beat on a bunch of bottles while his buddy blew bagpipes. I did not photograph them. I would never photograph them. The sun was out, not an f8 but a good 5.6 at 1/200th. I felt better.