Beira
Beira, Quelimane, Nampula: references of passage, pillars of the story. A deluge falling down on Beira and leaving the city back like a milky mantle. The viscous waters of Zambezi river, kaleidoscope of ochers and reddishes, sacrality of the lagoons and the mountains that protect them from tourist plundering, ocean of coconut palms plantations when approaching Quelimane. Some sugar loafs on the horizon advise that we enter marshy territory of magic. To have some spell would be great, though it is for giving us a breath in front of pickpockets of Nampula. We will have to stand their shadow as if it was a one more endemism of the city in spite of being a species created by tourist inflow. Put on the platform for morning departure of the train, we are already smell the sweeteness of ripe mangos that will intensify throughout the trip. Lonely peaks follow one another in the middle of an endless plain. As if they were sleeping titans, waiting for the turn to raise their bent heads, to shake their rusty armors, to grasp arms lost in thick foliage.
