5 am

The day’s heat and distractions are somewhat like the greed of Brazil’s plan for a huge Amazon dam that will wipe out an indigenous people’s way of life. If I want to run in peaceful concentration, it’s got to be earlier than the pesky catcallers are willing to get up. Unfortunately that godforsaken hour is before the Kasbah gates are open. So after scaling a fence, I discovered another early-morning hurdle: dogs. The preschooler options of fight or flight see-sawed in my mind, until a big-kid option red-rover’d on over and all the thoughts of my mental playground chanted a popular consensus.  I decided to try a little Otis Redding. As tenderly as possible, I convinced the dogs that they didn’t want to bite me and walked-ran down the hill towards the stunningly empty beach. From my path, the occasional white break of a wave stuck out like a sock hanging out of an ebony sky-and-sea blanket. It wasn’t until I had already passed the lighthouse, both surf clubs, and a cemetery that an inky corner reminded me how dark it was still.

The cup overflows if you don’t say “when”, so at 51 interviews, I’m calling it good. Translations, analysis, and a write-up will be waiting for me at the library for the rest of my stay.