Friday, 2 September 2011

Driving in to Persepolis

Everytime I turn around I am knocked flat on my arse by this land and its people.

Driving through the desert was one thing. I know deserts. Australia does deserts. Flat dry land and blue forever sky. I get it. But this. We are driving towards Persepolis and Shiraz and ancient dry hills surround valleys made for growing grapes and tomatoes and corn. The heat, the dry air, the colour of the hills. This should be desert, but it is violently green with good things to eat and drink and we are getting wafts of cow dung and other good fertilisers through the open windows of the truck.

I feel like professor Sumner-Miller. Why is it so?

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