I had been in Accra, the capital of Ghana, for just over a month, working on a documentary film project in a slum outside of the city centre. One of the largest and fastest-growing cities in Africa, Accra was a city that constantly excited and challenged the senses.
I generally walked the same route every day, past a piece of land filled with building rubble and occupied by squatters. One day, I noticed a man lying on his back on the ground, not far from the footpath. Dressed in rags, he was not much more than a living skeleton, staring at the sky with glazed eyes.
