“I climbed a path and from the top looked up-stream towards Chile. I could see the river, glinting and sliding through the bone-white cliffs with strips of emerald cultivation either side. Away from the cliffs was the desert. There was no sound but the wind, whirring through thorns and whistling through dead grass, and no other sign of life but a hawk, and a black beetle easing over white stones.” SoundSidesBlackWhitePathWindRiversStonesBonesDesertGrassStreamsCliffsThornsCultivationHawksChileWhistlingBeetlesEmeraldsSigns Of Life Book:In Patagonia Source: In Patagonia
“I slept in black tents, blue tents, skin tents, yurts of felt and windbreaks of thorns. One night, caught in a sandstorm in the Western Sahara, I understood Muhammed's dictum, 'A journey is a fragment of Hell.'” NightFeltBlackHellJourneyUnderstoodSkinsBlueWesternCaughtFragmentsOne NightThornsTentsSaharaSandstorms Author:Bruce Chatwin
