Rest in Peas, Palms!

Trees and especially palm trees are also a part of the eternal cycle of life – who knew. When they are young and sassy, they are often pretty wild palms. Sometimes an old fart from the South rides along and writes a book about them. But when they get elderly and cranky, they lose their juice and finally end up where most of us do – at a cemetery.

Tristes tropiques

Pukeaboo!

I stumbled upon this lost place in the middle of nowhere in Oman, not far from where I don’t exactly remember. The sun was setting, the wind was blowing, the forlornness of the place was palpable. Sadly, tumbleweed was out that day, so that’s a minus.

Mom, I’m hungry!

Hunnnnggggrrrrryyyy!!!

Omnomnomnom

In other(worldly) words, this last resting place, where no palm oil or wine will ever flow again, had a fascinating, almost eerie atmosphere (trying real hard to create a cool mood here, folks). So please pay respect to this memento mori where no palm springs anymore.