From the morning of July 31, approximately 5:00am, right after leaving the polling station, as we drove through the streets of Kinshasa. The streets were empty. So many buildings were only partly built, or partly demolished, it was hard to tell the progression. Garbage and trashed old cars littered the sides of the road. one or two men huddled around a fire here and there. As often as not there was a fire burning somewhere with no one to claim its warmth, probably a pile of garbage that too had nowhere else to go. The world around me looked broken, destroyed, truly a representation of an unimaginable history.
As we drove along I pulled out my notebook, half aware of what i was doing and scrawled the following:

Returning Home.
Kinshasa at night (asleep)
this is how I imagined the
world would look
after the apocalypse .

...