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The dust blown hallowed soul — the landscape — crowned by an emerald blue sky — a hue reflected in the limpid pools. The shoreline of white sand, covered by the occasional stalactite clusters of High-rises, though, even this does not seem out-of-place. The white sands shimmer like jewels in the light of the sun — for they are the fortunate ones. This land — the sublime — summons tears to soothe the dry globules of the eye. The heart — overwhelmed — cannot believe what it sees; this is a land of brooding tempestuous splendour — of tragedy — a land that moulds and elevates the soul: the sky, the sea. The tranquil — colliding with the scoured ashen grey mountains that straddle the coastline. They stand like old guards at a fort. They lie in slumber- scenes reminisce of Dali’s dream. The snow-capped peaks mock for they hold sway of the sky, the sea and the low lands. The loaf like contours speaks of years and millennia gone by. They have seen and have been scoured by time; This is a place of wonder and passion — one- accentuated and born out of the sun. In celebration, it bathes the land in a golden lucent light. In the haze even time pays homage — in the midday hour all is still; This is a place of grand gestures- of taunt emotions — of the sun. In this land even the colour grey evokes fervour.
