Pastoral nomads of the Danakil Depression cross the hottest spot on earth in 2 weeks by foot.
The caravan had dispersed and become temporarily lost in the dry plains. He had reduced his life to the mere size of a small rucksack. Inside contained directions to his master plan dedicated to memories of life in natural states.
He would be included in the barrage of traffic where the modern
met the ancient. His camel followed behind. In front of him parked
a white sports utility vehicle. Both would be able to cross the
deserts and mountains. Both would be seen in town simultaneously.
Surprisingly their recent introduction had been compatible. There
was still room for both.
But he had already mapped out
the world. He knew what the next chapter entailed. He had heard
more stories of buildings in the clouds, houses built to withstand
inner earth tremors, cultures fascinated with transporting
the outside into inside. Everything natural could be made artificial
in order to be controlled. Skepticism would partner with
the science of fortune telling.
He wondered if they lived outside in the inside or if they just
lived inside. He imagined the sensation of being in the cold rainy
season when it was the hottest time of the day in the desert. What
would it be like if you stood in the doorway feeling both seasons?
He had heard of places with no sunlight and only darkness. Would
the people live in temporary blindness? Would their imagination
be stronger during these periods?
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