The Terracotta Army

We drove all day on dusty roads to Xian in the Shaanxi province to see the clay men. The army is deployed in large archaeological pits. Our guide, a Chinese beauty, marshals us from the front like any good general. Her voice is a dulcet lagoon in this desiccated place. We all notice that her silk cheongsam clings to her embroidered, peach of a bottom. The arsenic-poisoned emperor died as mad as a hatter, believing a metalloid would grant him endless life. It`s difficult to tell if his megalomania arrived before his craziness, or after but they buried him deep where insanity is timeless. As we file out, I look back. The clay spear carriers the foot soldiers, the dusty officers even the horses, all of them seem to be stifling smirks - their eyes latched upon a heavenly peach, no doubt.