I let dusk settle on that story and manifested a new one.
Namely, being under pursuit. It was rather easy to assume whilst ambling around the landscape's dramatic and barren topography.
The notion was further validated by the apparently seamless stealth of the operation. No signs of life.
I questioned the atmosphere, wondered if I needed a mask.
I queried the state of my resources and weaponry. Bottled water provided by now inaccesible commercial netherworld; blunt swiss army knife, squash husks.
My ideas were not informed by rhetoric, but carvings. They proved to narrow my umbrella mood of loose associative fear, and classified my threat under cannibalism. Brilliant.
In conjunction with the barbarian ideas of cannibalism, these landscape edifices led to the second devistating epiphany:
a totalitarian society run be a king with five phallic arms. Who, during his thirty year reign, often reverted to 'emergency law'; i.e. his personal gluttony of human consumption.
I desired to seek shelter in a mountain abode that alluded underwater coral.
But feared my fellow man.
The king, who had a short penchant for puzzles, found the deceptive portals infuriating, for they often remained hollow and antagonized his relentless hunger.
[My hunger was dependent on purveyors far beyond this array of rocks standing in frozen deferral...
in the now unreachable, potentially evaporated, town.]
*******************
The name "Kapadokya" means "cap of the dog's severed fist."
The dogs defended the people and the king cut off their paws.
The phallus and the paws, towers in the sky.
All such romantic history.
************************
A rather spurious diversion.
I suppose it much simpler to assume the enchantment of the township sustained by touristic fervour, where one can buy an ashtray that looks like coagulated glycerine (rock approximations),
and imbibe the red rose autumn burn.
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