Driving through the town for the first time. Enjoying the environment. Actually wanting to sleep but not being able to. This different culture is just so magnetising.

A small, but strong, woman wearing an embroidered skirt and a wide headscarf stands in front of a field of flowers. Arduously, she pours water on the big, colourful field. I imagine the scent of those fostered for flowers. Colours dancing. At least three times a day, they receive the most valuable liquid; water. No work is too hard for this small, magnificent woman. I can almost sense her happy, old smile. It spreads over her whole wrinkled face. Still, she looks young and strong.

She gets the water from the well nearby. A decayed, dilapidated well; just as strong and impressive as its owner. It shelters the valuable elixir of life. A huge, green giant spans over the whole territory with its glorious crown. Next to it, a grey building reaching for the sky.

Over and over again the contrasts of colour and drabness. The only thing separating it is the wide spreading brushwood; like a magical wall from a different world.

But this little person with her life strength goes her way. The new things in our lives, this woman is not interested in them. But she seems happy. It is another way of life; non existant for us anymore.

Angelina Liesendahl, translated by Lukas Golombek