SOUL OF AFRICA

At the end of the day, he opens one eye, stands up. He sinks his claws into the earth, looks at the moon embraced by a bluish veil. At dusk, the Savanna wakes up. The animals smell the air, scan the horizon, listen to the whispers of the wind, its roars fill the atmosphere. The King is awake. His mane, imposing and dark, surrounds his head. Both majestic and proud, he walks with the lightness of a dancer. Yet with each step, the earth shakes, birds fly away, herbivores slip away, hyenas burrow into their holes, other predators move away. His gaze bewitches, paralyzes and terrifies. He is looking for his new prey. The night is his kingdom. At the moment when the first rays of the sun exceed the horizon and illuminate its coat, the Lion slows down its course. The atmosphere warms up, the grass turns golden. After his nocturnal journey, tired, the Lion falls asleep on a rock turned pink by the first rays of the sun, until the next evening. The Sun King can take his place and reign in turn for a few hours.