Tuesday, December 15, 2009

You can't take it with you

(Rams on wheels Photo courtesy Abigail Dejnak, from 2009 visit to Banjul)

Mr.Cheap knows you because you bring everyone you know to this place. You inhabit one little sphere, however exotic; you imbibe its novelties for the benefits of those who still find them novel. You dominate, you big fish, you. This isn't the worst niche imaginable. New people find themselves caught up here,at least for moments in time. They sort of disappoint, or is it just your imagination, when they wrestle free with a batchful of stories and memories in only a short time, like a week or a year. Why do you feel the need to explore every wrinkle in the land anyway. Some questions don't require question marks do they. So, at the risk of no longer getting to answer another rhetorical question ("You must really like it there, no?") you'll soon pack up your donkey cart and mosey on out. It's time to stock up on Mr.Cheap's dried seed pods and painted whatsits, perfect the tan, suck the dregs from the wonjo bag and get out before you become a fifth wife or sad old beach hag with rastafarian arm candy. You'll be so anonymous and cold where you next go, but it looks silly to keep swimming laps in this little crocodile pool.