Posts Tagged: Desert

Moon Walk

“Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches of other lives — tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey, hanging from the branches of the young locust trees, in early morning, feel like? Do you

Moon Walk

“Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches of other lives — tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey, hanging from the branches of the young locust trees, in early morning, feel like? Do you

Blue Dunes: Sailing the Sahara

They did not strike me as melancholic, the camels. Perhaps aloof, withdrawn, displaying deep lassitude even as they masticated, ceaselessly, their cud. But not melancholic. Before one can wake up to the Sahara, one must first arrive: we did so by camel, Farida and I. Dropped off at the shore of the dunes by our driver Abou, we were met by our camel guide, Hamou, a laconic boy of malt-coloured skin who appeared far too young to be so at home in the wilderness. He was ostensibly as emotionally removed from the wonder as the new humped friends with whom he greeted us.

Blue Dunes: Sailing the Sahara

They did not strike me as melancholic, the camels. Perhaps aloof, withdrawn, displaying deep lassitude even as they masticated, ceaselessly, their cud. But not melancholic. Before one can wake up to the Sahara, one must first arrive: we did so by camel, Farida and I. Dropped off at the shore of the dunes by our driver Abou, we were met by our camel guide, Hamou, a laconic boy of malt-coloured skin who appeared far too young to be so at home in the wilderness. He was ostensibly as emotionally removed from the wonder as the new humped friends with whom he greeted us.

Quintessence of Dust: Waking Up to The Sahara

A morning walk along a high crescent of the Erg Chebbi dunes “…the beauty of the world…and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” famously queried the Danish prince in the throes of the existential crisis of existential crises.

Quintessence of Dust: Waking Up to The Sahara

A morning walk along a high crescent of the Erg Chebbi dunes “…the beauty of the world…and yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust?” famously queried the Danish prince in the throes of the existential crisis of existential crises.