"The sun makes its orange way east from Arabia, over a Red Sea, across volcanic fields and desert and over the black hills"

As a result of my outburst of photos from Harar, I was asked to provide a little more explanation. I've been to Ethiopia three times now, and everytime I travel there it never ceases to provide me with endless ideas for stories I need to write. Also, travelling there seems to remind me that there's just as many opportunities for story writing around the corner from my apartment (though one might have to get out of earshot from the incessant jack hammering, a sound that will eventually result in some monstrous condo development).

The project at the moment is to record, as best as possible, the events of a particular evening/morning in transit from Addis Abeba to Harar. Perhaps some of you have already heard the tale, but I don't think I've really told it well enough as of yet. A little paranoid about subject position, am I.