In these times of corona, I may call my mom more often than before and, like always, I actually discuss everything with her. Yep, almost everything;)
Last week we talked about playing the djembe and my plan to go to the Gambia in #aftercoronalife and passed by a moment once in an earlier life in Paris, where drummers used to play everywhere and nowhere.
I think I was 11 and saw for the first time such a pitch black person that my mouth fell open and the man… he couldn’t stop laughing when that little thunder grounded in a state of supreme amazement mixed with much more admiration and stood breathlessly listening to what he managed to evoke with his drum and touched her heart in a way she’ll never forget.
Sometimes I think I actually have African roots, but I accidentally ended up in a pig-colored skin, haha.
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