Drying

Taylor’s bike is upside down, the small patch of wet glue black and drying. I’m sitting in a vanishing patch of shade perched on an rock away from the sharp objects hidden on the ground. He joins me, pump in hand.

We are at the junction of two roads, no signage marks the intersection other than a large yellow one indicating a school. In each direction no features rise higher than the bush, and in each direction a red, hard packed, stone filled road extends.

My bike sits in the sun, leaning against some hand built structure. Four unimproved wooden posts, still bearing their bark, support a piece of black plastic sheeting. They are tied together by smaller supports that create as a platform or semi-flat surface, also built from small branches laid closely together.

No sounds come from any direction. The tire still suspended in the air. Taylor checks his watch.

Mogotio, Kenya - February 3rd, 2024