Dusty. So very very dusty.

Azedebo sits on the foot hills of a large mountain range called Ambareecho.  Theres plenty of greenery, waterways, and animals throughout, but the community knows it best for its  incessantly blowing wind.  That wind soars down from the 3,000 meter peaks and flushes the arid soil  from all the lands and roads into the air. Like the rain, it inevitably falls; in your hair, on your clothes in your eyes and of course into your home.  The small town is perpetually covered in dust. You brush it off, but seconds later another gust blows through, or a another giant truck thunders by and the air is thick yet again.  I have already grown accustom to the barren taste, and I think that Ill continue to manage just fine, but then again, I have some help with doing my laundry.

The usual scene walking home after a days work.  Kid doing the splits is always there.

One of the culprits.  6 inches of feathery dirt  and tiny stones makes up the road through Azedebo
(Durame- Mudula thoroughfare).  Of course it all kicks up with ease with every passing car.