Traveling for long periods, especially alone, has an effect on my mind.
It’s very normal for me to celebrate any lack of boundaries, by exploring my new freedoms.
Often rubbing elbows with real danger. 
Then, of course, like now, when I become acclimated to living in strange and dangerous environments, say after 5 months.
I find myself questioning, what is dangerous out here?
That is to say, I don’t know what danger looks or feels like any more,
It’s all the same piece of peanut Brittle now.
The things I’ve experienced here in both Africa and life before Africa, have disassembled my cultural association with fear.
Nigeria?
Timbuktu?
DRC?
Does there exist a place that brings about in me feelings of trepidation?
I can’t think of one
And that, could be a problem.
As of yesterday I had no intention of visiting Equatorial Guinea.
Never spoke the word before Monday.
Now I’m planning on entering the country on a boat in 3 weeks.
The backpacker trail here is barely visible.
Because theres no infastructure to host backpackers, wanders and gypsy street hustlers, very few visit.
Making me a novelty in this land.
And in the lands to come, I’m sure.
Which is a bit tiring, if i’m being honest.
I hope to find my West Africa Current soon.
When I do, I’m off to see P. Sherman 42 wallaby way, Sydney.
Worst case scenario, I’ll continue being lost and alone among strange but beautiful African people.
And THAT’S not such a bad deal.
Earth Bobby 