I can feel the pull of it though. Empty but full. Simple yet highly complex.
My imagination only has the typical stuff from third parties to go on. Countless (but brilliant) documentaries of animals and plants that can survive the apparent vacuum and the heat. All in HD of course. People asking me if I have completely lost it. Why.
No room service, no internet. No respite from what it is. No problem.
I've heard horror stories, seen the movies where you just have to eat fellow travellers. Some of whom you have chosen to award less value to - in terms of the escape. You are close to going mad with lack of water or hope - you were certainly looking the wrong way when the sinister music started. You are living in the broken fuselage of life.
So this time tomorrow I will have covered the several hundred kilometres to arrive beyond contact from the rest of humanity. I will have travelled from minus 20 degrees C. To plus 35 or more degrees C. That's a lot of C. In 48 hours.
My mind pictures the scene. The arrid land, the sparse bush, the occasional animal, spider or snake. The unknown and unplaceable noises amid the cool of the night. The sound of new winds, sand and silence. All rolled up. The amazing and diabolical graphic statements of the dunes.
From the air it looks like the moon. From down there I am expecting something far more distant and yet human - far from Hollywood. I am expecting to hear my mind working.
I can imagine a place that has been utterly ravaged by the sun and the wind. It has been hit by a violence that I can only imagine and nothing survived. I can also forsee a microscopic abundance of life itself. Not a microcosm but life. Itself. I can sense a different air, I can conjur a thrill of a different nature.
Will I be right!
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