new shoes in the name of god

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swaziland was beautiful, big bend was beautiful. an old nun gave me a pair of shoes in the name of god in big bend. the cold was stinging my bare feet into spasms.
the land stretches out like good young skin over a face and the face is swaziland, staring up, neon green eyes of strange sparkling trees and blinding white teeth of fresh painted crumbling shacks. swaziland and big bend, freezing wind and open sky hazy with icy moisture and down into south africa itself.
five young fellows working the border post kicking my tires and laughing about tanzania plates and letting me go without so much as a twitch. enjoy south africa!
durban is hell. its loud and stinky and unforgiving. my motorcycle is crumbling which is not such a big deal on a deserted highway but it is a big deal in the middle lane of a five lane freeway. a big city is more lonely than any lost stretch of plain. i am alone amonst millions of busy people who care only about being busy and staying busy.
from the border of swaziland to durban with a setting sun was like a dream that when you wake up from you can't remember but struggle to anyways for the rest of your life, the dream may not have even happened, but the feeling was there. the feeling of being on the road in this northern part of south africa makes my skin tingle. it's the lay of the land, it's beyond words.

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