Journalist and two cities

We touch in the book the tangible fruits of the Bukhara orchards and our eyes stray before the blue glazed tiles in the domes of mosques and palaces of Samarkand. Likewise, we smell the scent of cloves in Zanzibar. And we never cease to see images of the past starting from the present. About cities falling in love and thrones breaking. About exiled kings and fleeing princesses. About slave caravans and the woman's sandal that delayed the conquest reaching the confused identity of Central Asian countries. And about the white scars on the face of black Africa.