December is the month when it starts in Lagos. The horizon blurs or sometimes completely dissolve in a thick white veil. The space is confined to shorter distances. This creates a feeling of intimacy and mystery at the same time.
It was the end of 2017 and we took a banana boat to cross the entrance of the Lagos harbour down to the lighthouse which marks the access to the ocean. That afternoon the city was rather quiet on this holiday period. Many people had travelled to their family "villages" or abroad. As we reached the lighthouse beach, very few people were out by the shore making us feel we had the whole place to ourselves, hidden from the ship lined up at a distance from the shore waiting for their turn to enter the harbour.
Birds chirps titillated our ears as the sun disc, already very faint, was about to disappear in the haze leaving a us into some soft light, somewhat grey.
6pm, soon the time to return, but before that, a glass of wine in one hand, a walk to the nearby shipwreck sounded like a good plan. As we walked barefoot on the wet sand massaging our footprints, the wind was cool, helping to distill deep thoughts into conversation, that feeling of being in a special place at a special moment.
|the wreck of a ship|
This escapade, on a week day in an empty space filled with a diffuse light, had been an extra-ordinary aperitif away from the immediate bustle of Lagos.
|this is where all started, we retired to a life of value|