The smile is missing; no joy around the eyes. All the wedding photographs look like strangers, dressed up at the airport. The men smile under moustaches. You wouldn’t understand; this level of side-eye is cultural. There are significant limits to visible happiness. And people still go out, go to the market. Whatever. It’s safe. As safe as New Orleans, or DC. You need to know. There is a fruit stand, where a woman will bloom this afternoon. She will overexpose electric air, a cloud of dust and burnt hair. She’ll move matter from one column to another, a smile and her alarmed wrist.
