Stranded in the Desert

Stranded in the desert,

There is no water.

The air is dry and hot,

My breathing is labored.

My lips are cracked and sore,

My throat is parched.

All around me is sand,

The sun burns down from above,

But I must find water,

Or I will surely die.

The desert would be a terrible place to die. Most people have no concept of how large deserts can be. I’ve traveled enough to know that, when I’m on the edge of the great Saharan desert, I can see the high dunes from horizon to horizon.

I think we’re in the middle of one of those deserts right now.

I feel the dry air burning my throat and nose as I walk towards the edge of a particularly steep dune. The ground below me is just sand, and it stretches out, unbroken, for miles and miles. I know it’s not a real desert, but it looks like one from a distance. The air is too dry for the plants to grow here, and the ground is cracked and broken. It’s a harsh, unforgiving place to live, and that’s probably why I feel so uneasy.