The Dili dawn provokes visceral feelings. Roosters, wild dogs, pot holes, pigs and nocturnal shadowy figures navigated by the occasional flickering security light, the smells of wood burning, LA cigarette smoke and fried rice mingle before getting to the water front, where you taste sea salt and dust with the first breath.
A lone motorcyclist is indistinguishable from the dark due to a malfunctioning front light - you only realise you were close to collision when you see the brake light moving slowly past. Teenage lovers huddling on the beach near Esplanada. Changing of the guard at the US Embassy as security personnel with army fatigues swap shifts. A stocky figure shadowboxing frantically in the park by the police station near the lighthouse with moonlight illuminating his controlled aggressive dance.
Near Fatuhada markets a fire burns which illuminates shirtless human figures holding knives carving flesh which on second glance is a pig for the day's markets. Teenage martial artists practice high kicks on the sand toward the pier and greet you warmly. Then sunrise transforms everything into awe inspiring beauty, the pink sky, the buzz of the early mikrolets, the white sand, the encouraging nods of other joggers, the waves gently massaging the coast, the sight of Cristo Rey in the distance, the smell of freshly brewed coffee at Letefoho, the bondias and smiles of the Marconi community. In no other place I've been has the morning been so unknowable and initially sinister and then transformed into being so euphoric as darkness turns into light.
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