One-third of our Earth is nothing more than sand, rocks and the scattered flora and fauna capable of surviving a heat so harsh that it shapes the ground itself. Desert. South of the 31st parallel is a lunar landscape. The wayfarer who steps here, tempted by the upside-down isosceles made of sand, no more than twenty-thousand square kilometers, where everything is flat to the horizon, will find himself in the smallest desert in the world. The Negev.
Abraham crossed it to reach Egypt. During Jesus' life, negev meant“south”. In Arabic it still means dry. In the Negev's essential breviary, imperatives are few and the people who can teach the sand grammar to you are even fewer. They are “those of the desert”. Bedouins. From the Arabic,“bedu” , dweller of bādiya, the desert. And the language of the land is like its anatomy, wind-carved into undulating patterns of shifting sand, changing colors and migrant dunes.
The Bedouin atlas has no borders: desert gypsies do not believe in hand-drawn confines, Israeli or other. They trust in the sand and keep faith by the dunes, day after day, century after century. This is the first bedu imperative: in the desert, we are all running wayfarers.
Post by Michela A.G. Iaccarino
Lettering: Gastón Lisak