It's Raining Mangos

When we arrived, massive iron gates stood wide open like a mother’s welcoming arms. On the opposite side of the arched threshold, tropical foliage waved a friendly hello.

Gypsy Stepdaughter of Sudanese Spirit necklaces and bangles, cherished remnants of their wedding dowries, wrapping themselves into a colorful silky tobe and painting their hands and feet with intricate henna designs.

Train to Khartoum: Hurled Through the Haboob

The storm arrived vengefully, roaring past darkening windows like some furious desert demon. The force of the wind rattled the heavy metal train as if it was a tin can, and the storm, a giant’s merciless fist.

Belly Dancing in the Cemberlitas Hammam

Here we stood, clad in nothing but steamy mist. A hot wave of embarrassment rose into my cheeks. Sweat poured from my pores, and not just because of the steamy heat.

Abandoned Homes in Bulgaria: Empty or Not?

From the outside, the houses often look romantic and peaceful, especially when washed in the golden sunlight of a late afternoon. Stone walls stand in solid defiance, while mud brick walls have eroded, washed away by decades of rain, until they look like lumps of molten honey-coloured candle wax.

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