Nothing kinky this time, though both these beautiful beautiful pictures are by Victorian naughty-boy Jean-Leon Gerome. I couldn't choose between them: both are wonderfully evocative. Looking at them I can smell the dust and the diesel fumes, hear the honk of horns in the street below and the call to prayer echoing from crackling tannoys. While not being a Muslim (or indeed a fan of any organised religion) I love the sound of the call to prayer. Particularly the one that wakes me at 6am and reminds me that I am a traveller abroad.
For the last week I've not done any writing, and that is partly due to the fact that I've been preparing to go away on a research tour for Heart of Flame - or as the pesky taxman will insist on calling it, a holiday. Syria and Jordan. I am so excited about this!
I won't be blogging for a couple of weeks, but will be back in the first week of November with - hopefully - photos of ruined cities, rock-hewn necropoli, majestic mosques, Roman amphitheatres and desert palaces.
Salaam aleykum.
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