NPR, home to the concept of conspiracy, recently aired a segment into the religiospheres of West Africa. As I listened, I entered that metaphysical longing that desires to unearth the same Swahilian rhythm this tribe incoporates into the baking of their bread, the walk from the waterhole, and their ceremonial rites. Life is simple to them. Society is cooperative to them. I yearned to be anywhere else but where I currently was. To travel to that elsewhere place not by train, bus, or boat, but the bongos and beaded percussion of this village. Lexington life is devoid of savoir faire: the pace is slower, the twang saucy and sedated. Some morning wake up calls thrust one face forward, others are foragers in a dog eat dog food chain.