It is dark, cold and humid. I’m stumbling with no shoes over sharp stones and bat excrement deeper into this cave. In front of me a huge stalagmite is building up. I try to keep my balance on the slippery ground. He must be build up in thousands of years. A fresh breeze of wind from behind reminds me that I have almost reached the exit of the cave. The first sunbeams fall into the darkness and reveal the true extent of this cave.

Mawlamyaing, Mawlamyine or Moulmein. Even the name sounds exotic promising. And even promising is the fact that this city is not on the “normal” route through myanmar. This is reason enough to visit this city once and find a piece of normality in Myanmar.

One day in Marrakech. A day’s time trying to understand and photograph the city. This works best on foot. And so I set out to find the hidden or lost mysticism of this historical name.

The second part of the Morocco trip is marked by children. In each village, children jump at us with outstretched arms or ride on their Bikes a bit. Impressive is the doggedness with which the handshake is pounded. And the joy of having just saved her day.

From above, the area around Merzouga looks rather dark. But a little yellow spot sticks out. This splash of color is a huge pile of sand called Erg Chebbi. And a harbinger of the Sahara itself. A desert taste…

How do I describe something that is not there. I ask myself this question several times during the journey through the High Atlas. Because nothing welcomes me here. Landscapes of further reducedness. Mountains without vegetation. Lands of stones.

At first glance, little has changed. Yangon struggles to catch up with decades of military dictatorship. This succeeds in breathtaking speed. Meanwhile, it is an advanced metropolis and in the same breath with Bangkok, Saigon or other major Asian cities to call.

A humid evening on a roof terrace in Delhi. A touch of jetlag will not let me sleep on the first night. Somewhere in the vicinity there is screeching music or what is perceived as such due to the exotic tone sequences and the volume.

Wet, mature leaves. All over. We trudge through countless evidence of an advanced autumn. It is still cool, the day promises the warmth of the sun for the afternoon.

I stand on the bridge to the Ile de Re and look at a blue, which holds the view. A depth, a beauty and intensity comes from this sky and you forget for a moment, what you actually do here. All the more beautiful to be able to marvel.