All I needed was to pack up and walk a mile down the road. Instead I had lain in the field under the Tuscan sun as it completed a full arc brushed by a single cloud whilst nature danced liberated. As the sun died I perched on the impressive amphitheater from where the market place spread, settled by long nosed Florentine merchants, square jawed legionaries and speckled or flaming Celts.
On the incline the source of a mighty waterway seasonally bubbles up through dislodged stone into channels tracing the seams of a quilt. On the decline a slender narrow cut valley soaks in warmth then drips with dew, ripening for the banquets in the villas cast over the vista in their thick hewed stone draped with vines and ornaments.
A man motivated to develop the communications infrastructure in Helmand to suport the promises of the Kandahar dam breaks the isolation.
1 comment:
I came across your writing when I attempted to claim your blog address for my own. Although you had not updated recently and probably would not see this comment in the next while either, I still wanted to tell you that I thought your words were beautiful.
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