I mount the rock and see the desert stretching out below, vast and endless desert, the sands swept along in low, continual gusts. The heat of the sun is upon me, the trackless wastes before, and I, here between them, feel death’s waiting presence. It is here with me, a howling wind passing through this strange jumble of rocks, this weird, alien mountain. It is here as I breathe, as I try to breathe, my chest throbbing and weak. Here on my summit, I feel the dreadful age of my bones. There is not time enough to cross this desert.
Crossing the Desert
Tale Told 