Fifth Journey Day 186: The Shadow That Floated Forward

Date: November 10, 2025
Location: Saint-Louis, Senegal

On the island city of Saint-Louis in Senegal, the Senegal River brushes the Atlantic along the Langue de Barbarie. Pirogues creak at their moorings, colonial shutters fade in the sun, and a light Sahelian haze softens the horizon—an estuarine place where currents negotiate and memory settles like salt.

Where the Senegal River Meets the Atlantic

This afternoon, I walked along the Langue de Barbarie, where the river and sea move in opposite directions. The light was weak and golden, mixed with dust, and the horizon seemed to hover rather than be solid. I kept walking until the sand got thin and my shoes were full of it. There were boys playing football near the water. Their voices carried easily on the wind. There were also women arranging nets in slow, deliberate movements.

Colors Like Dyed Silk

I stood still for a long time, watching the colors of the river change as it met the sea. The colors went from green to gray to blue, and then they changed back to something in between green and blue. The scene reminded me of silk being dyed: moments of merging before the fibers reject what cannot stay. I thought about how travel is like this — the way what you experience gradually becomes a part of you, and then it fades away.

Quiet Moments at a Café

Later, in the old town, the streets were quieter than I expected. The paint on the shutters had peeled off in thin layers, like shells that had been exposed to too much sunlight. I stopped at a café for tea. The air outside was heavy, but inside the café, I felt refreshed. Across the street, there was an old sign that read, "silence et mémoire," which is French for "silence and memory." It felt more like a suggestion than an ad.

Choosing Stillness Over Sketching

The day ended with a slight wind over the river, and for once, I didn't feel like I had to record it. I remember the feeling of standing between two bodies of water that don't get along but can still coexist. Tonight, the room smells a little of wood and salt. I can still hear the sound of a single boat returning at night, its oar breaking the water in slow, deliberate intervals.

Travel Notes

• Weather: Warm and hazy, 26°C; dust softening the light, a gentle wind carrying river spray and the creak of wooden boats.
• Scents: Salt and dust at the shore; later, cool wood indoors and the faint tannin of tea.
• Sounds: Boys calling over a football match, nets rustling, water lapping at hulls, and at night a lone oar dipping in measured strokes.
• Reflection: Like dyed silk, encounters color the day, then recede; river and sea disagree, yet share the same edge—an invitation to coexist with what cannot be kept.

Continue the Journey

You may also enjoy reading about yesterday’s quiet reflections along the Sahel coast, or linger with another moment beside the Senegal River in Saint-Louis.