When we land, Guinea is bright and damp, the air settling like a heavy coat against our arms as we walk off the plane. The sun is shining through wispy clouds, and the sunset seems to last forever, pink and lavender behind the domes and minarets of the mosque. The hospital is on a spit of land that juts into the Gulf of Guinea. Two men paddle away from the shore in a little boat that crests and falls with the wind like a rocking horse. Further out are cargo ships, so gray and still that at first they seem like boulders.
from Neurology recent issues http://bit.ly/2U4uctJ
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