Ramblings on a changing landscape….

Stick fences separate small sects of land, keeping livestock in. The ground, hard as rock and parched- is the colour of ash. The only sign of growth for miles is the outcrop of hardy green thorn bushes. Simple mudbrick dwellings are the colour of milky tea. Clusters of goats hang about. The landscape is a vast plain of brown, blonde and beige, it’s as flat and dry as can be. The mountains far in the distance have deepened their shade from the washed out orange-pink at the onset of sundown to the hue of slate-made bleary by the settling fog. The change in scene came suddenly after descending from the green of the Andean Cordilleras into a dry-as-bone river valley and once more ascending  the dramatic mountains- now arid, brown and red. Our bus has slowed to a crawl as if sensing its severe surrounds and continues in complete and eerie silence.

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