TDV 22: Finding The Host That SustainsJuly 30th, 2008 by Sharkchild
I walked through the truculent sands for many days without end. Their color glistened and appeared to shine brighter with each new dawning of the sun—a sun that radiated and shown power beyond the means of natural, un-orchestrated things. I could feel the sun’s reach and be witness to its breadth. The sky was either a pearly hue of blue that mixed and submitted to the distant horizons in a lackluster surrender or a faded negativity of gray, humming illusions through the paleness of the moon. Of any movement other than my own, there was none.
While traveling, I tried to recall how my presence had come to reside in the cradle of desolation. I thought back upon those memories that marked the birth of my waywardness, but I could not find anything defining before that moment I first started out upon the truculent sands. It not only was my first memory of the desert; it was—as I searched desperately through my mind—the first crisp and clear memory of my life. Only jumbled glimpses and sensations of interaction meshed in-between the stored images of sand, sky, and sun; they were like indistinguishable residues. Besides these, there was only emptiness. Of my name, my acquaintances, and my experiences, there was nothing to be found. This frustrated me, and pushed me more fiercely through my steps.
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