SIWA:
There aren’t really words to describe the vast majesty that is the Sahara. Nor are there words for the silence.
The eerie and totally exotic music thrumming in the back-ground as the safari jeep plunges nose-first, straight down, into a mountain of sand. Wind whips by the open windows, sand filtering in everywhere despite attempts to keep it out.
There are no words for the sensation of watching a pink sunset spread out as far as the eye can see. The perfect clouds that I’ve only dreamed of, the layers of pink, orange and purple piled on top of each other.
The laughter from a temporary camp as the drivers- Siwians- drink Siwa tea and sheesha.
The chaos that is the sound of echoing drums in frozen air in a fire-lit camp, their rhythm pounding across the open land. It is heard by all and none- that’s how mysterious this place is….
The silence of a star-filled sky, crooning to a guitar
All watched from the top of a sandy peak, nothing in sight, but the flames of a setting sun.
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