In the market, a man’s arm is stretched wide, and his left-hand holds a book that seems to be a bible. He is decked in a blue robe in the manner of a clergyman; his closed eyes face the skies and his mouth is open in the manner of one shouting prayers to heaven. Around him, a crowd of women bows in prayer. But in the vast background, a different world of trading continues between market women and their customers who I imagine may gossip or banter about those gathered in prayer. I come into this picture bearing a question: why is a pastor praying in the market sphere and not in a church? Perhaps, the clairvoyant and the traders have more in common than meets the eye. They both trade in the perishable commodities of soul and food.
In the market, a man’s arm is stretched wide, and his left-hand holds a book that seems to be a bible. He is decked in a blue robe in the manner of a clergyman; his closed eyes face the skies and his mouth is open in the manner of one shouting prayers to heaven. Around him, a crowd of women bows in prayer. But in the vast background, a different world of trading continues between market women and their customers who I imagine may gossip or banter about those gathered in prayer. I come into this picture bearing a question: why is a pastor praying in the market sphere and not in a church? Perhaps, the clairvoyant and the traders have more in common than meets the eye. They both trade in the perishable commodities of soul and food.
A figure sits in an expanse of water but we do not know who or what they are because they are shrouded in an overbearing ray of light. They are encircled by the same beam. Anonymous and faceless, they become one with water.
