Nights in the Casamance

Often, the problem with telling stories is one's inability to capture the feeling of the moment in words. We can say the facts, say there was an electricity in the air, but that electricity is lost in translation. This is why it has been so difficult for me to explain why one of the happiest times of my young life took place in the tiny village of Sare Cene, in the Casamance region of Senegal. Why? I am asked so often, and while my answer has been refined, it always falls short. Why? Well, every night, all the young people of the village and I danced well past the time when the moon reached its zenith, illuminated only by the light of a dying campfire, the moon, and the vast multitude of stars. Even with my prettiest language, I fail. I can not convey the energy, the joy, and the laughter. I can not describe the feeling, or the reason I am smiling so wide in all of my pictures. The best I can do is to refer them to Where There Be Dragons, and say "Why don't you find out for yourself."