Gilles Cartmans. A Sunday at the pool in Kigali (№ 183507)

Kigali when the sun sets, it is impossible not to admire the beauty of the world. The rapid flight of birds as a subtle heavenly embroidery. Blowing a soft fresh breeze. The streets turn into a long live tape - colorful, flowing lazily, like ant chains, strings of people, slowly climbing your hills from the city centre. Everywhere the smoke of the braziers. Each curl, looming in the sky, talks about his focus. Thousands of laughing children running through the streets, kicking deflated balls, roll old tires. Kigali when the sun goes down, and you sit on one of the hills that surround the city, and your soul is still able at least to feel something, then you can only stop and admire.