The heat is suffocating, Kalahari-summer suffocating, with little succour in the patchy shade of the Apple-leaf scrub.
Kalahari Travel Journal | The Fly of my Travails
Lions ever watchful for lunch
Heat scrambled thoughts pass from the scavenging activity at the four day old elephant carcass to idyllic beach resorts and back to the elephant carcass each time the hot breeze carries the stench across to where I am seeking out some sort of relief.
The persistence of a bloated blue fly, seeking out the moisture of my facial orifices, adds to the physical discomfort and each time the scent of the carcass is blown into my sensory orbit the fly appears, daring me to ponder where it has been.
The heat is all consuming, and the breeze has no relieving impact on my space, instead only blowing foul-scented air across my being, with the fly adding a soullessly monotonous drone to the time. Scene-stealing in its monotony!
The time wears on but the heat persists, as does the irritation of the fly. Rest eludes me, kept at bay by the heat and the exertions of the fly. In my discomfort, however, is rest for my soul, and in the rest the contentment that the wilderness provides.