Chapter 8

The road was arrow straight.  It appeared as if from nowhere from the rippling air towards the east, beneath an infinite sky of faded blue and above the immense expanse of sun-bleached grass.  It passed by, a thing of grit and dust, colourless, dry as death.  It vanished to the west in another heat haze.  In all directions there was nothing but the sky, grass and heat.  Walking along the road it felt as if one was simply walking through the same moment hour upon hour, perhaps eternally living the same moment of heat, dust, and sun.

Alyami stopped walking.  He looked around, squinting at the sky, scanning the grass, his shoulders bent and weary.  He sat down and pulled out his beloved rabab, spent a moment in the tuning song, and then wistfully rang notes from its strings, searching for his feelings within the music.

Dust is dust, the dust upon my feet.
Sun is sun, the sun upon my face.
Sweat is sweat, the sweat upon my skin.
Heat is heat, the heat upon it all.
The past is passed, passed beyond my eyes.
Loss is loss, the loss upon my heart.
Tears are tears, the tears all run dry.
Ache is ache, the aching of my back.
Now is now, the now that always is.
Truth is truth, the truth that will not change.
Love is love, the love that is not here.
Hope is hope, the hope that....

Alyami broke off.  He carefully put his rabab back into its bag and rose to his feet.  He took a skin of water, shook it to judge how much water he had left.  A mouthful and then back into the pack.  He looked around, squinting at the sky, scanning the grass, his shoulders bent and weary.  Alyami started walking.