The photo was lost on the pavement. It was covered by a fine layer of dust which I wiped off with my sleeve. At first, I felt amused by the outfit of the man. Everything was so grandiosely formal. I looked around to see if anyone was looking for it. The road – next to my Dakar office — was buzzing with people rushing home for the weekend. A memory lost among the crowd, I felt sad for whoever misplaced it. I looked at it one more time, before returning it to the street. I placed it against a wall to be protected but also to be seen. A memory lost on a pavement. I hope it was found before nightfall.
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