Nesfe Jahan, pt 73

100 kilometers south of Shiraz, 25 degrees.

Me and my friend A travel to the nomads who ferry between Esfehan in here. There is no question about them hosting us for the night, and giving us food. Fresh from the goat’s teat. When I ask one man if he has some cigarettes, since mine are done, he disappears for an hour. When he’s back, he wordlessly hands me an expensive pack, still unopened. I realize he drove his motorcycle all the way to town, and that there is no way I can manage to make him accept money for this. I tell him he’s too nice. He looks me straight in the eye. “I would die for you”. And he ain’t kidding.