We're in a desert now, my favorite place. It's not too cold, not too hot, it's alright. There's a light breeze, it glides softly along the skin. The sun is slowly setting down. We're alone, we're one. We look at the horizon. Enjoying the empty horizon. No buildings, no rocks, no trees, no people. Only waves of sand. We crouch to grab some sand, we do it with patience and grace. The sand feels warm, feels light. It passes through the fingers, some fly with the wind, some return to where they came from.
We take another handful of sand. We make a fist and squeeze the sand, we hear them scratching, rubbing over one another. We release them, they return to where they came from.
We lie on the sand, belly down. We hug the warm desert, which is slowly getting colder and colder. We ask ourselves, why are we here? How did we get here? Where should we go? What did we come for? Did we really come or were we always here?
---
It starts getting colder. No, it doesn't start. It was always getting colder since we remember. The sky darkens. The wind remains the same. It's quiet, only the wind speaks from time to time. It doesn't say anything though. Nothing at all. Or at least, nothing we could understand. Or maybe all we understand is what it says?
We're getting hungry. Got to eat something. What is there to eat? We start looking for anything we can find. We walk across the empty desert. I drift away.
You keep searching. You find a strange flower. It's glowing, with so many colors at once. You get closer to see better. Its shape changes, its size grows and gets smaller. Almost as if it's breathing. The closer you get, you start noticing the petals are growing in length. They split, they get longer and longer, thinner and thinner. They're moving past you, you're focused on the glowing, breathing center.
---
It does not look like a flower anymore. It does not look like a desert anymore. You're in a spherical cage made of hairs. You're floating in the air, which almost feels like water. You don't feel afraid, you can't think of fear. You feel at peace. You don't feel hungry anymore.
The hairs get thicker, harder. Sharp thorns start growing from them. The thorns penetrate your skin when they finally reach you from all sides. You don't feel pain, you don't bleed. Your skin becomes pitch black, the color of the thorns.
Your eyes are still fixated on the glowing, colorful, breathing center. Suddenly, you feel concerned. Your worry grows, you feel like something is off. It is not supposed to be like this. It can't be, it does not make any sense. You ask yourself what happened? How did you get here? What should you do? What were you looking for? Were you really looking for something or have you already found it?
You try to move, but you're stuck in thorns. There's nowhere to move, you can't even feel a thing to move. You still try. Your fear grows. The amorphous center gets closer to your pitch black body. You feel tingling sensations in your solar plexus, to where it is the closest. You try to move, you try to fight it, you try to resist.
---
We open our eyes. We see the warm light coming from sticks of wood cracking from fire. We're not alone.
- Drink it.
A man hands us a cup with hot liquid, it kind of smells like quince? He then gets back to meddling with his weapons. He seems focused, vigilant. Eyes on the horizon, looking or waiting for something to appear.
- We don't have time. You have to go. Can you walk?
