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the desert.

in the desert there is sand, sun, moon and thirst. you learn from each mirage, with your footsteps as your only companion. you count your beads and tie your knots, reciting new poetry and wrestling your thoughts, watching the shadows and telling time by the seasons that pass.

you begin to notice that mirages are not too dissimilar from night and day, reflecting angles and light by perspective alone. the sun is fixed, even as we turn away; the moon does not disappear, even as she wanes.

your hunger comes and goes. even if a warm meal would be nice. your memories of hospitality now threadbare, there is pleasure in the fasted quiet of the body. and of course there would be a way for you to learn both.

there is no other way to find out who you are in the desert. you walk until the desert becomes oasis.