Gulf of Suez

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In Ras Gharib the merchants will cheat you. Yet Suleiman led me finally to a tunnel which descends deep into the earth.

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The passage here by boat was pleasant, though the crocodiles were voracious in the northernmost end of the lagoon. It is evening, the mist is billowing in, and I am now sitting down to prepare some tea.

*

It is finally here they found the more intricate weavings of the Akoli generation of women. Not just in the earth or storage of families with ancestries, but still coming from the hands of the grandmothers, language woven into threads into epic tales told cross generations.

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Arthur has been stung by some sort of insect. He lay feverish all night. Foul-smelling yellow mist over the lagoon this morning.

*

Somehow we are here again — a wrong turn, perhaps? This part of the swamp, on the eve of the full moon, reveals enchanting bits of wreckage, corners of tapestries that trail and whisper.

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