SCENT
OF A CONTINENT
CAPE TOWN, South Africa – Mist bands the mountains' roots. I stop
on the airport tarmac, gobsmacked. But, of course ... in a dry climate, moisture
wicks off the low scrublands...
Dawn in Cape Town, after a 14-hour flight. I inhale deeply – dust and saltwater and fynboos, the fine-leaved indigenous flora.
Africa. How I dreamed of this land.
Here, at last, every sight, every scent, arrests me utterly. I grin and grin, punch-drunk on a new continent.
I know exactly what you mean.
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