Gedanken
fairytale of the Tuareg of northern Mali
The compass made of black goat horn
Only when the embers of the red sun had sunk far behind the endless expanses of sand desert dotted with black rock pustules did young Targi roll out from under his lair where he had lain resting from the scorching heat of the day. However, he carefully avoided putting his supporting hands out of the shadow cast by the sharp-edged, flat splinter of basalt so as not to come into direct contact with the skin of the still glowing sand. He then took a slow, economical little sip with relish from the...
- Haus der Kulturen michael stöhr
- Bürgerreporter:in
