And the days are not full enough...

And the days are not full enough
And the nights are not full enough
And life slips by like a field mouse
Not shaking the grass

Ezra Pound's poem vibrates inside my head as the days pass by. I take my anti-malaria meds to kill off a bout of one-plus falciparum swimming in my blood. Rendering my Mountain of Death film takes 15 hours each time. Getting the right compression rate, ensuring the anamorphic 16:9 aspect ratio is retained and that the visual and audio fades work are therefore time-consuming processes. But its all good. There will be many more films to come..

We watched Manhattan last night at the film club. I'd forgotten Woody Allen's genius for neurotic dialogue. The discussion afterwards lingered on whether the relationships he portrays are true-to-life or camped up. The consensus was that he reflects quite perfectly the silly thoughts we often have when it comes to love and marriage.

Last week death came to our compound, quicksilver quick in the flash of a shroud. Orlando, one of the drivers for Alhaji downstairs, met his maker. It was shocking. He was there one moment, driving the white car in and out, blocking us in occasionally, and then he was gone. Abuja roads are dangerous, especially the Expressway. Imagine a place where the 95% or more of the population who drive have never had a driving lesson, being able to drive as fast they want, without regard to any rules such as slow lane vs fast lane or indicating you are turning off. There must be several road deaths each day in FCT. Rest well, Orlando.