trees... when you see trees you will soon see water. the sky begins to show signs of clouds, albeit they are small and faint illusions of mist, soon you will see water. its hot. it is so hot that you can feel the water being pulled from your body. you begin to curse the sun and wonder how anyone can live like this, but people do. they are happy and they are at peace... i can live with that.
hitchhiking to the north aral is a commendable feat. in kazakh they have the belief that any car is a taxi for the right price. in the desert that price can be debated if you know how to change a tire.. and this is exactly how i found my companion for the strangest bit of 24 hours i've had in a while... and i've had my share of strange lately. i met a man in the outskirts of aktau who was struggling to replace his front right tire (a white 1981 Turbo.. whatever that is) and it was me who approached him. he looked like he could use some help and he was eager to accept my water as a token of friendship. my companion would prove to be a quiet man with many old photographs of a woman in his car.. i knew it was his wife.. i knew she died.. i knew it somehow. he was older, grey, wore a black mustache and a dirty scarf. his car smelled like cigarettes and time. he seemed happy to have a passenger and really i liked him for some reason. i liked looking at him.. i liked the wrinkles in his eyes. i liked how he struggled to breathe in the desert heat.. he made this sound like someone makes when they sigh of relief. he liked the wind. he was missing his front windows, or so i thought. only one car door opened from the inside. it was on this ride that i found the strangest of places.
you see trees in the desert and it is like seeing a dolphin in the sea. you cant believe it... you make a wish on it and pray that they see you too. trees mean water and just like veins of the earth, water carries life to the stretches of its body. trees slowly became forest and forest became river. it was in this river we passed what could have easily been the emptiest town i've ever seen. it was a ghost town. a city of soviet abandonment.. pieces of trains and stacks of bricks that resemble houses. it must have been a work camp that came to a close when the soviets left. the cracks of the buildings reminded me of my new friends eyes.. and the wrinkles time has left behind for them..
it hurts to be alone. it hurts to fall asleep and convince yourself to close your eyes. when you are so far away that the moon seems closer than home you begin to question if you even exist at all.. if anyone in the world knows where i am.. if god is watching. we travelers do this to ourselves on purpose. it is because of this that we laugh with madness and hysteria when we see our friends back home. we hug longer. we kiss our lovers with eyes only 95% closed.
words can put to justice the beauty of stars in the desert at night.. nor can they explain the intensity of the heat the morning sun brings. there is no water in the air.. only heat, like an oven. the ground could open and hell could swallow you up. nobody knows who you are.
then you get to town... you see people again and you crave a cold beer, something that is hard to find in kazakh - in north aral at least. the strange thought hits me when i sit at the corner of a cafe watching people and life return to my vision, some people have never experienced cold ever in their lives. i wanted to throw a snowball in the face of every desert dwelling child in the heart of the nothingness upon which they reside. i wanted to fill a glass with ice cold water and splash them when they are asleep. i wish my beer bottle was cold..
fish need water
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