Is that normal? I ask as a young boy steps out from the past pushing a car toy silhouette made of wire.
“Yes“ replies Alex my guide; a gentle kind-hearted man who I soon discover doesn’t understand my English as much as I assumed.
My legs are stiff and I wonder why we are walking towards nothingness having just passed an epic lake
An army truck clumsily climbs the road behind us. I wait for it to pass before snapping this image. It’s not great but I predict it’s pretty much the only time I’m going to get to press the button.
A monk speeds towards me on a horse. I’m genuinely alarmed he’s trying to run me over. It’s like a boy on a BMX breaking at my feet to test my courage. I stroke it’s nose and we both part.
Alex’s logic baffles me; we came here to see the lake and walked away from it. I suggest he drives and I walk back to the water through the small village. We spend some time marvelling at the natural procreation of its toxic looking elements. It’s hypnotic and calming.
We refresh ourselves from the opposite natural spring that spurts out carbonated water and head back to the wagon. A hour later soaked from the sun the water has turned a Berocca orange and I think of my insides.