Melting Hail Stones

The Winter crept on me, and I found myself suddenly standing under heavy clouds blinking at a gray blanketed Winter day!

I am writing to you  with one hand while the other is reaching out collecting pearls of hail stones falling from the sky, soon melting away in my palms like those days spent on the shore of this land.

I have been loving my days of Dahab, It struck me today that it has been six month since I arrived to this beautiful Bedouin village. Here, I have been spending many early morning..

Strolling along a promenade, where rusty street lamps stood, mere shadows of their former selves,

wandering shores strewn with sea garlands

and sea shells full of  sea tales..

and bird feathers and curious sea treasures.

I have been climbing the summits of ancient mountains..

and I found solace in the echoing silence, between mountain peaks and boulders..

and ancient stories embedded on sharp-edged mountain stones.



I have been diving to the heart of a deep blue sea..

when a reach of sunlight fell through its surface..

a wondrous world was illuminated before me.

Dahab has  been brimming with joyful wonders, alas it's time now to pack and wind my way back, with heavy pockets full of cherished memories and sand, to the edge of the city, to a tiny nook that I call home.
Meeting Dahab was like meeting an old friend, warm and familiar, and so with  a promise to come back, I bed you dear old friend-land farewell.

"Traveling provides occasions for shaking oneself up but not, as people believe, freedom. Indeed it involves a kind of reduction: deprived of one’s usual setting, the customary routine stripped away like to much wrapping paper, the traveler finds himself reduced to more modest proportion – but also more open to curiosity, to intuition, to love at first sight." - Nicolas Bouvier, The Way of the World

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