Giza

The sky is blue. Piercingly blue. The sun so bright it hurts. Heat emanates from every grain of sand, every stone, a white-hot heat that permeates the entire being. Staring up at that blinding sky I can barely make out the top of the pyramid. I run my hands along the ancient, baking stones. Slowly. Taking in each one. Everything is bathed in this warmth. I can even smell it radiating, off the great structure. It smells sweet and oddly familiar. I am wearing silk, so transparent it may as well be my skin. It’s green and shocking in this sea of brown, and gold, and honey. Sweat drips from my brow over black, kohl lined lids. I feel at peace standing next to this monument. Like I’ve never belonged anywhere else in the world except here. I breathe deeply, smelling the hot earth and when I open my eyes again, I am awake.

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Categories: Travel, Wanderlust, Writing

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