Adrift... so terribly adrift. Ever blown and reconfigured: never the same. As white as the pallor of death; dry, unfeeling, moving about with a purpose all their own. So much activity, so little result. Moving here and there, only to move back; today a valley, tomorrow a dune. Their vastness draws out from me all that I have and replaces nothing. Not even the sign that my efforts are worthwhile. And now they bury me, these desert sands, since I have become just as lifeless as they.