Desert Diaries

First Log

“The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.”

My Observations

Call me Ishmael. I’ve been wandering in the desert for some time now. My canteen is almost

empty, I don’t know how much long I’ll last. The heat and the barrenness are not doing me any good.

I don’t remember how I got here anymore. I have decided to write down some notes that may not be

read by any other living soul, but for now it is enough that they are read by myself. If you have them

with you, I hope they can be of use.

For the past few days I've been stargazing to beat boredom. The dance of the stars is

fascinating. So perfectly ordained, so harmonious and rhythmic, both in its parts and in the whole. I

wonder what they say to each other and to us in their silence.

First Encounter

Until this day (I don’t know how long I’ve been here) I hadn’t found anyone besides the

insects, scorpions, and snakes, and they have been a terrible company. But today I found someone. A

woman. It was the ninth hour and she was crying profusely, sitting on a sand hill that looked like it

was about to collapse, but never did. From afar I could see she was wearing a pearled crown and

immediately figured she was someone important. I approached her gently. She wore a long dress that

was as blue as the sea (I still remember the sea) and, underneath her crown, a white veil that hid her

hair. A scepter rested on her legs.

“Why do you cry?” — I asked.

“I am lost, traveler, I can’t say. My subjects don’t know where to go, I can’t govern them like this, and

my King is still astray. It costs me much to reign and I have no authority in my hands. My chest

overflows with emotions, and so I ignore the Laws of the lands. I am Diane and this is my cry, for my

tears cannot be contained. All pain is intense in my soul, and the darkness can no longer be restrained.

I beg of you, wanderer, out of Love, do something for the souls here detained.”

Her voice was soft and maternal, even through her tears. While I was asking myself what

could I, a vagabond, do for her or for anyone, she just pointed East with her scepter, as a gesture of

order. She stared at me. Her teary eyes were firm, and for a moment it was as if the storm that raged in

her chest had ceased and she, like the clearest silver, reflected a light from elsewhere. I dared not

disobey. I could hear her starting to cry again as I walked away.

Even though it was brief, to see someone was invigorating. At that moment, it was like all of

this had a purpose. Not anymore. The impression had passed, and the desert is once again an endless

labyrinth. But the memory remains, and I cling to it like Theseus.

I have walked for hours and all I could find was this rock on which I’m leaning. I am tired

and it is late. I am writing under the light of the full moon.

This is my first Log. First day. No date.

Second Log

“Child, to say the very thing you really mean, the whole of it, nothing more or less than what you

really mean; that's the art and joy of words.”

The sun had just set. A sparkling star can be seen in the West, and the other stars have begun

to adorn the night sky. I am sitting beside the same rock from yesterday. I spent the whole day here,

stuck inside my own head. The wonder and strangeness of yesterday’s encounter were dimmed by

what I saw today. It was an eccentric experience. I’ll try to make a faithful account of it, but my

memory of it seems to be clear and confused at the same time.

Second Encounter

I woke up startled. I had dreamed of something I no longer remember. I don't usually dream.

In fact, I don't recall ever dreaming since I got here. I guess yesterday’s impression left a mark. The

sun had just risen and it projected the rock’s shadow over me. I spent some time thinking if the

woman I saw was real. I convinced myself that she was. I saw what I saw.

As I got up and faced the East to continue my journey, I saw something running toward me.

At first it was hard to identify it because the sun was on my face, but as it came closer the details

became clearer and clearer. It was a masked man wearing colorful clothes and a hat with little bells on

it. He was carrying a bag full of what seemed to be scrolls. As he came close to me, he started talking.

The colors on his clothes seemed to dance as he moved and gestured, and his theater mask seemed to

change expressions. As we talked, he moved his arms and walked around me, sometimes facing the

sun, sometimes giving his back to it. And as if that wasn’t enough, our dialog was quick and cryptic.

“I salute you, Master! How may I serve you? Are you lost or alone? How may I be of use?”

“You are very kind, I have nothing left to lose. In the midst of this wilderness, just tell me what to do.”

“There is nothing left to do, and no trails left to follow. Can’t you see that your fate is all empty and

hollow?”

“I don’t get, strange friend, what are you trying to say? Who are you, first of all, and why should I

obey?”

“I am only a messenger, but I can confuse you. Don’t get caught on the details, or you’ll keep starting

anew. What I say is neither true nor false, it just is. I can contradict your faith with just a little quiz.

What you seek you cannot find and will never find like this, not until your eyes are opened and you

see through the abyss. I know you’re looking for the King, but you’re lost, there is no awe, so don’t

waste a minute more, is up to you to make the Law. This is why our lands are so lawless like they are.

Our King is just a boy, going round and never far. Keep on going to the East and don’t you dare to

ever stop. There you may just find the one who governs at the top. But now I’m on a hurry and will

have to let you go, will you just look at the time, you must keep running the show. My King awaits me

somewhere around here. See you later, alligator, you won’t see, but I’ll be near.”

Even though he called me Master and told me it was up to me to make the Law, in some

strange way he was in complete control of our conversation. Without wanting to or even realizing, I

responded to him in his rhythm and cadence. It was as if he was talking to himself through me. And

before he was gone he left me with a tangle of thoughts in my head that had me trying to unravel them

all day long. Was I the king going round? Should I go East or is there nowhere left to go? It seemed

that nothing that he said led anywhere. But it was like I was bewitched, and I just couldn’t stop

thinking, I couldn’t leave the maze he threw me into. I will end this log here and go to sleep. Maybe

tomorrow I can see things clearer. I guess I lost the day. Not that one more day or one less would

make much of a difference here, especially because I think I only have enough water for one more

day. But I’ll deal with that tomorrow.

Second day. No date.

Third Log

“And art thou chang'd? Pronounce this sentence then – women may fall, where there's no strength in

men.”

The night is falling. I just woke up from a faint. Only sand around me. The only evidence that

what just happened to me was real are the throbbing pain in my hand and my full canteen. If not for

that, I would be questioning my sanity. Even then, I can’t say for sure what really happened and what

I could have dreamed about while I was unconscious. I will report on everything as if it was all real.

It is hard to write because of the pain in my hand.

Third Encounter

I woke up early, drank some water and started walking East again. It is funny how yesterday’s

encounter with the colorful figure, even though it was much stranger than the one the day before that,

did not leave such a deep impression. It is almost like the doubts he planted on my mind were not that

important. They are still there, but it is like I don’t really take them seriously.

After walking for some hours, my water ran out. The sun was at its zenith. I can see

something far away. I couldn't believe it, and I wondered if the sun had gotten the better of me. I

started to run towards that oasis that I saw, and my heart beat like a drum in my chest. Anxiety had

taken over.

When I got there and felt the freshness from the palm tree shades I fell on my kness and a

single tear ran through my face. It was real. I looked around, still euphoric. There were palm trees, fig

trees, date palms, tall and short bushes, the colors, the shapes, it was unbelievable. The sound of the

plants in the wind seemed to embrace me, and I could almost hear a melody coming from it. A small

stream came from a spring. I ran for it to drink and fill my canteen. When I looked up, I saw

something watching me through the foliage. It looked like a person, but it hid away as soon as I

noticed it. She began to slowly and timidly show herself, looking at me with curiosity.

She was a young woman, with a face with delicate features and feline eyes, long black curly

hair and lightly tanned skin. She wore a crown of flowers, an emerald necklace, a low-cut white tunic

with a slit that revealed her left leg, and a leather belt with a copper buckle that accentuated her

voluptuous hips. The tunic gave the impression of being somewhat sheer, just enough to suggest

without actually revealing anything. She held something that looked like some kind of basket.

She approached slowly, her eyes inquisitive, and I remained catatonic before that dreamlike

scene, now inhabited by something that seemed capable of whispering and inspiring the most fantastic

epics. And at a certain moment, as if she had recognized me, she smiled and ran toward me on the tips

of her bare toes. Her tunic and hair seemed to dance with the wind. No — they themselves seemed to

make the wind dance. Without saying a word, she reached into what I now realized was a cornucopia

and handed me a fig, which I promptly ate, then another, and then a date. Then she walked over to a

bush to pick wild strawberries. I followed her and began eating them as she moved toward another

tree to pick pomegranates. I couldn't get enough, and as I ate what she gave me, everything around me

seemed to take on a certain glow, like in a dream, and I felt intoxicated. The trees and fruits no longer

looked like ordinary plants — they were so beautiful and vibrant in color. The girl whispered a song

that seemed to play inside my head. I was delighted, and she laughed gracefully at this, dancing

around me and feeding me more and more.

Until, when I reached out and picked a beautiful, red, succulent fruit, I saw it. A scorpion was

hiding behind it. There was no time. It stung my hand, and all the glow, all the colors, and all the

music vanished. Like a bubble bursting. A searing pain hit me so suddenly, and I was so vulnerable,

that I simply fell onto my back and felt myself losing consciousness. The last thing I saw was the

beautiful face of that girl looking down at me with melancholy.

And here I am. Alone again, lost again. I have water for a few days more.

Third day. No date.

Written by Thales Rodrigues Gauze.