And just as infallibly as always, it cured everything. The sad face, the sore throat, the melancholy, the boredom and the uncertainty. There is nothing in the world that can compare to the wonders that dancing does to me, my body and my mood. I’m back on track again.

The painting above is from Núcleo de Arte here in Maputo, the Sunday hangout venue where art meets live music, grilled food, expats, rastas, dancers, painters and – unfortunately I don’t know the name of the artist.

(The sore throat might also have been cured by a wonder-spray that I got from a friend and sprayed onto my non-existent tonsils a couple of times. And the bottle of wine we shared the same day while painting our nails and talking about girly stuff.)