back with the caravan and:tchaikovsky is not cool

The landscape was exciting for a while when i was riding my camel in a desert full of suprising flowers.Never can a bright red or pink stand out in that way with a background of pure white sand.Azaleas they call these flowers ,my co travellers are wrapped in indigo rags ,their faces are nearly completly covered like mine to protect themselves from the wind ,i am at the end of the line on the last camel.His name is Julius and he has a foul temper in the morning and a sweet one at night when i hear him groan in the blue night beside my tent .It is day now ,light lots of light and my mates are looking back now and then to check if i’m still sitting on the back of my camel.I am, though momentarily the hilly landscape has gone flat in front of my eyes .They hurt because of the wind that i exposed myself to yesterday and even a couple of times before that.I just wanted to experience the bite of it ,feel naked in front of the elements.Elements that left me feeling flat ,seeing flat, shaken and stupid .What was i expecting from the sun and the wind a revelation?A burning bush?Only people can be water and fire and when they dont know how to handle themselves they can flood you and burn you .I’m with my people now ,travelling,stumbling over dry roots ,burned out evidence of life.I heard the Tchaikovsky yesterday at the concerthall ,conducted by Gjergev by heart he led the orchestra through Tchaikovskys emotions keeping a huge stream of conciousness going and going until we all went with him.This man Tchaikovsky was not what we would call "cool" at all, he composed with his blood and pain ,showing all ,ending the symphony in darkness ,silence ,gloom leaving us with our own answers .