A gecko on the ceiling in the yellow adobe house at the foot of the dune, a scorpion about to enter my boots on the floor. The tear of a dew drop. A breath from the window opening moves the light white cloth that covers me on my wooden cot. How I wish that this breath of air would never end. It could put a stop to the scorching hot day that is about to begin and might deter the figures in black cloaks and hoods that are after me. I’ve fled to this place from society, and society wants me to return what I owe. Everything is borrowed. It’s only just and equitable that the black figures will come and get me.
– Surendra Sparsh (© 2007)
Originally written in German (Ein Wüstentraum). English version posted here for One Single Impression.
niebla | fog 
The feeling of being alone yet pursued is a tough one. Thanks for sharing this.
That is an intriguing selection. It is bleak, black, lonely, trapped.
The desert really pares everything down to the barest of possessions. Nice piece.
Interesting piece. You certainly create an intense mood with your writing – a sense of both literal and spiritual/emotional desert.
“Everything is borrowed.”
Well said.
Linda
The Mane Point
OFF COURSE, on THE MANE POINT
All is MAYA!
Still we have to live on…
pinpricks
..this house you speak of at the foot the dune… if it weren’t for those dark figures, i would come visit… but that is not your story… it is the desert dream that you speak…
beautiful imagery that leaves me wanting to know more…
You set up a clear and intense scene. Those opening sentences/images are amazing. Very effective piece.