A sweet Eastern wind blew across the desert. You could hear it soft yet steadfast, carrying her story from edge to edge, drifting slowly all the way from the East to where the sun goes down.
In its wake, it had lifted a veil of the finest and lightest sand, hovering just above the ground. It flowed gently and in harmony with the wind, like spider-thin tulle drawn by a tender hand, gliding away as it touched the desert, caressing the dunes and tracing her form.
And the camels of the caravan seemed to tread on nothing but this carpet woven of sand and ether, moving weightlessly, leaving no trace behind. Their hooves dissolved into it, just as our thoughts had vanished, swept away by the wind.
You could see Ď„hose thoughts running free towards the horizon, with neither the desire nor the wish to return, scattering their burden like ash. And you watched them from afar, your gaze spellbound and unburdened, as they raced toward the most distant ridges.
And so you journeyed through the desert freed of their weight, towards the setting sun that left the shadows behind. Without them, you were more willing than the wind, ethereal as the veil of sand, transparent, and somehow like the steps of the camel, weightless, leaving no footprint upon her.