Crossing the desert was grueling Dunhuang to Turpan. Two very long days-nights road without crossing the great world.
Past the mountains of fire, life resumed around the oasis of Turpan. The fruit vendors drive the roadside. Two young women invite us to eat melons and watermelons. They almost apologize, this year they are small, violent winds ripped most of April have (even the wall of the Mosque of Emin), the season will be difficult ... They live there in a small home-away in one piece along a dusty road swept by the winds. The husbands work the fields. The first young woman of barely twenty years bears his eight month old baby in her arms. It's a boy and as tradition dictates Uighur, she hung garlic on the door of the house at birth. I take a picture of them and prints. She smiled, this is the first time she has a picture of her with her child. I told her she is beautiful (look at his eyes!). She shakes her head, rubbing the black spots on his face.
His sister also wants a picture with her child. She asks me a minute ... I will wait a quarter of an hour. The time for her to wake her son, her face full Cleanup of soil, he put on his overalls prettier, to restyle ... A mother on the day of the class photo! The child is barely awake and not fully understood. He examines Xavier and his beard a month, mid-air mid-asleep perplexed.
Then they take pictures of the game, the melon is more beautiful with the color of the fruit!
After the hot deserts, the meetings!
GS
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