The road north is long enough that the stops matter as much as the destination. This one was a village where the work was all in the hands: baskets coiled from fibre, mats woven from split palm, the ordinary skill that keeps a place running.
The woman weaving was the frame I kept. She barely looked up, the basket growing under her fingers while I stood there, and the pink of her headscarf held the whole picture together. The banana flower and the palm mat are the same craft looked at from either end, the material before and the pattern after.
All three are on the 55. You can read the day sliding into the shade of the stalls in the EXIF, ISO 200 on the flower out front, up to 12800 on the mat in the dark at the back.