I venture in the sun. The sand, it seeps into my clothed feet, trapped next to my thumb.

There is no breeze, just the torment of shifting particles, an illusion to my physical demands.

Yesterday I crawled next to a weeping dune, I slept until my eyelids burned and I could drink my tears. I was sure to die, I sure hoped to die.

I walk today, as yesterday, and the land only expands. My name returns to me in drops and mist; I want to swallow all.

Three wishes: 1) Stop; 2) Return; 3) Repeat


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