The sands of the desert are calm and quiet. A snake makes himself into a pen and draws the longest letter I have ever seen. The lizards push against the rocks up and down, up and down -- inmates of Hell's own fitness spa. The gila monster is still where I last saw him. And above it all, the cactus, centuries old -- Old Man of the Desert -- yet an infant of the sands and rock. And me, with my pen. What can I say? I am always thirsty.