Snorting like a dog with flattend face, the 150 cc Kenton made it over 4500 meter altitude. We are at salar de Surire, a bomb of beauty. Both muted by the sound the engine makes upon turning the key one single turn, we praise our Kenton for starting without hesitation.
The desert makes me sleep easier than usual, deeper than anywhere else and better on a whole. In fact, I go as tired to bed now as when I was cycling, which puzzles me. I hit the air mattress extremely satisfied, and it are especially those moments, when I lay down, that are the best of the day. Only rivaling with the moment of waking up. As I am equally eager to start exploring the surroundings of where my tent is.
A sky full of stars let me feel that I exist, that I am alive. All else falls quiet by witnessing dots of light against a dark indigo sky. The silence is everywhere. Around me, in my head and in my ears. Everything is being omitted; worries, dreams, thoughts, fears, hope, wishes, things, hassle.