It was a night when the moon emerged as bright as the sun; as I stood upon pristine white salt amid clear blue sky. But unlike the central star, the moon had no intention to rouse you of your slumber…instead it let its rays sprinkle quietly on the whiteness below me and the salt sparkled like a million gems. It appeared too lonely for heaven and rather too alluring for hell. As I stood there grasping below my breath; I wondered, “Where the hell was I?”
Writing about travel can sometimes be tricky. As a travel writer, I feel my first and foremost obligation towards the reader is to enable her with clear and precise information coupled with a few anecdotes about the destination so that she gets the real picture. And yet, at times it becomes impossible to control that urge to meander when one is confronted with something as beautiful
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