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Banbury Cross

a pillow for lost thoughts...

Post details: Postcard from a different planet

Postcard from a different planet

Nothing makes you appreciate life as much as a desert.

That ageless mixture of dried melancholy and finely ground patience spreading its standing waves far around in a soundless geological lullaby. That protracted moment when crystallized stars rained down from the sky and Mother Earth decided she needed to pour herself a cup of infinity. All the mighty rocks spent eons and eons getting stoned in its crumbling monotony and if you squint your eyes into narrow slits you may see an endless ocean of silicon droplets heaving under the unrelenting sun and tossing its lifeless crustaceans apathetically from one dune to another.

Every so often you can spot a few limbs of a confused shrub or a patch of hard grass keeping a guard like a lone sentry at a farflung frontier outpost. Eking out a living in this inferno is a job as ungrateful as trying to sell a fur coat to a passing Bedouin. This is the part of the planet where parch is for appetizer and water is for dessert. Can you see your sanity seeping into the sand?

If you can, you are almost getting it. Now put Borodin's "In the steppes of Central Asia" on your iPod, lie down skyward and imagine what kind of body parts would aliens have.

poust

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