He’d just come out of the river, the mud still on his face. My camera drew him to me, with all his friends. The children called me Muzungu–white face.
He’d just come out of the river, the mud still on his face. My camera drew him to me, with all his friends. The children called me Muzungu–white face.
I hear them, the voices in my head. They tell me stories. I can see them with my heart.