Rain is cooking over Brazza City again- curtains flying. A nervous twitch in the fabric created a time warp- temperature dropping by decades. Pothole soup for dinner again. Kirby: I'm sick of following my dreams. I'm just going to ask them where they're going and hook up with them later.
- Mitch Hedberg
LJ: My dreams play outside in the rain without my permission. I watch them through the window.
[Photo shot in the alley near the American Embassy on Boulevard Maya Maya in Brazzaville on Valentine's Day 2011. Driving after a hard rain in the city is a pot-hole extravaganza. Brace yourself for some bouncing and jerking and praying not to get stuck in the mud. I am not Christian, but I mutter my own hedonistic Buddhist pleas to the weather gods at such times.]
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