Frances Leung
In this very moment of the thousands and million years, I am here, in this singular space.
Thousand and million years
Continued from Tea in Hotel Sidi Driss
Skirting the outskirt of the Sahara, we drove away from Douz, onwards to Matmata. The car pitched through plain after plain of sand drifts. On the plains, solitary canyons broke the plainness. Flat top all they are, rimmed with vertical rocky cliff which weathered under the force of nature and crumbled down as slides of rocky slope.
From distance, they look like women on flat hats with long hair running down.
Were they born like these?
What were their original forms and who reduced them to such a state?
Rain, torrents or drips drips? Air, gusty storms or gentle breeze? Time, years and years, thousand and million years?
In this very moment of the thousands and million years, I am here, in this singular space.
