Dakar, while time is passing

Dakar, sometimes you can't see the picture in what you see. You are not really regarding things around you that you see everyday – they just are there. At a foreign place uniqueness appears. There is no consistency, no logic. On the roof is a man sitting, as if waiting. Below on the ground is a uniformed man walking off and on. Beside the man on the roof is a winch with a thick rope. At the end of the rope is a bucket.

In my newly arrived brain it all becomes a unique installation. Where a guard is carefully watching a bucket while a yougalike man meditates on a roof. While time is passing.