Eilat

In the twilight, Eilat, seems deserted, some Antofagasta, Chile's North, before my eyes. Bordering Jordan not far, there, where the hills are tinted in blueish-grey, at the horizon. A solitary shadow, grey, the harbour of Aqaba. Small, distant houses, scarcely illuminated by a fading sun. Some ships in the harbour, towed side by side like toys. I am crossing the plains, some Macchia, some dry thornes, and a firm sand, giving way to my footprints. The border: barbed-wire, sandy hills, a water drench, with reed growing in mouldy water. Here a snake, there a coot, some water-wagtails – and I, the only silent creatures. I scarcely leave any tracks in the sand. Brilliant, crystals of salt in the ridges, underneath, slippery, some soil. I walk over cracked loam, which is vaulting in edges, flying off. It crunches, when I cross it. High above three planes circle like big cranes in the evening sun, flying close to the border. Wind thrives through the reed, which is respectfully bending. There, to the left, an artificial hill, a plateau, bolders, grey, arranged in a triangle, and above, Israel's banner, blue-white, the star of David with colours already fading and - some barbed-whire, carelessly floating in the wind. Ahead of me a snake is sneaking off. A water-wagtail not able to fly is resting in my hands. It is good to feel nature, to inhale silence, to seem unreal, slowly disappearing in the dark, like the surrounding nature. Night brakes slowly now, with the cool wind from the North. Stars, like shiny needles in the darkness piercing the sky, covering me in silence. My dreams are drifting, yet caught in the past.