The Dead Sea


It was grey and hot and dank, and the smell was strange, and the atmosphere in the tourist cafés melancholic. We waded, squished, mudded, floated, and squinted, and the water, or mud, or both, gave me a rash. Beyond boundaries of rusted coiled barbed wire we could barely make out the mountains of Jordan.

grey, grey, grey
muddied arms and floating feet

The bathing area in the part we visited was marked out by temporary fencing, which looked a little like it described a crime scene abandoned before the investigation.

I am really glad I went. I haven’t discerned why. Probably it was the company. Thank you so much to my Aunt and her friend for bringing me along!




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