Ваша оценкаOne morning in Paris on the way to kindergarten, a little girl asks her father "Papa, why do you dance when you walk?" The question is innocent & serious. Why does her father limp, why can't he ride a bicycle or a scooter? Her father feels compelled to answer, to bring back the memories of his childhood in Djibouti & tell her what happened to his leg. It was a place of sunlight & dust & sickness, a sickness that made him different, unique. They called him a skinflint & a runt...
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