I never anticipated just how difficult the journey would be. I knew it would be harsh, and I knew that I may never find my way, but what I hadn’t expected was the loss I would experience of myself and of my sense of self. At first, it was just loneliness, but then the loneliness faded and the incredible distance began to really set in. Sandy mounds as far as the eye could see. I walk—even run sometimes—for hours, days, yet what I observe around me does not change. The dunes of yesterday remain in place no matter how far I travel. The burning grains beneath my feet force me to feel when I am otherwise numb to my surroundings.

Golden fields of glistening gems watched over by shades of blue and green. Not even a droplet of white taints the muted atmosphere except for when the great deity of gas and flame which oversees my travels is replaced by his lesser guardian. The guardian guides me through the night, providing much needed light in the now violet desert and obsidian sky. Millions of stars I view every night, but I can never remember their names. Thankfully, a generous and knowledgeable man appears to me one night. He is my first friend of many in this troubling adventure. His face is pale and littered with blemishes, but he is still so beautiful to me. Every night he finds me, somehow, in the vastness of the dry tundra. He always appears and towers over me, telling me the names of the stars and planets that I see drifting through space from my exceedingly tiny point of view.

The kind man keeps me company when I feel cold and alone, gives me someone to talk to. Then, by morning, he disappears, fading with the darkness of night. I say goodbye, not afraid of the loneliness of the day, knowing well that I will meet him again come evening. But the days are still so hot, still so long, so lonely. I need someone, anyone, to let me know that I am still alive. And as if the universe can hear my internal ramblings, it gives me another friend. A little creature, it is, no bigger than the palm of my hand. Its smooth skin is as white as the sclera of my eyes, its own eyes so concave and shadowed. The poor thing is lame, so I carry it myself. I assume it starved, just as I, for it cannot be even a pound in my grasp, but I know that the two of us can go on for just a little longer for each other. I continue on elated by my companion’s presence in the day, and while it sleeps, I enjoy conversation with the pale man about the infinity of space.

The desert is alive all around me. Every morning when I awake, as if intentionally trying to confuse me, the desert erases my footsteps from the day before. The shifting tide makes it impossible to track my path. Fortunately, the man who appears in the night always approaches from the same direction, at least as far as I can tell. Oh, how he (and my frail mouse of a friend, too) bring me such delight! Of course, those are not the only ones who have found me in the soundless sea. I once met a man with a scarf that seemed to trail for miles. I appreciated that scarf so much, for the man, while oh-so-graceful as to barely leave any prints in the sand, seemed in such a hurry. I followed him as best as I could, but he would often disappear behind dunes. Thankfully, his scarf allowed me to tail him for quite some time.

I learned much from the man. He showed me that although logic says a straight line is the best path from one location to another, a jagged, tangled maze of a path is just as effective. His robes, which covered him from head to toe and shimmered in the moonlight, taught me that it matters not what someone looks like if they are of good spirit. I never once saw his face, but I knew his heart well. He enjoyed singing and humming, the scarfed man, and often when I lost him behind a dune and had to rely on his extended cloth to catch up, he chimed and called out to me. Rarely did he wait, but I found the chase a refreshing game. With great grief, however, I learned that the man was only intended as a respite, and quickly, when even his scarf escaped my view behind a particularly high wave of particles, he vanished.

I can accept his absence, but I do hope to meet him again another day. Another friend I have made was a beautiful woman. She appeared once when a particularly powerful gust of wind drew a mass of sand into the air, and after the flurry settled, she was left behind. She greeted me with open arms as if we had known each other for many, many years. In fact, we had known each other for a very long time. Of course, we met so long ago that I could not remember our first meeting, but I was happy to see a familiar face. We embraced and danced. Our tanning skins glowed under the sun, and our light hairs beamed under the moon. This friend got to meet the pale and kind man, and she, too, was told the names of planets and stars, and the ideas of infinite space. Her grasp kept me warm in the night, but like all things, our time together eventually ended. I awoke the morning after, and she was gone without a trace.

I do not know how long it has been since I started this journey. I do not recall my starting place nor my destination. I just know that I must press on. Oh, but the desert…it goes forever! I hear the whispers of the sand tormenting me every time a breeze cools my skin. They tease and pester me, poking at my skin, trying to blind me, drying out my mouth. I wish they would leave me alone. The sand is not my friend. It is the prison in which I am trapped and from which I am trying to escape. Luckily, the sand is malleable, and while it is impossible for me to track my own progress, there are other significant marks in the desert that I can follow. I find a deep gouge in the particles, not at all wide but quite deep and very, very long. I follow it until I see what the universe has granted me. I run and I run and I run toward the sparkling pool nestled between dunes. I collapse at its edge and bury my hands in the refreshing fluid. I plunge my face under the surface and breathe deep, gulping breaths.

Of course, I cannot forget my little friend who must also be desperately thirsty. I hold my open hand to the pool and—friend? Where did you go? I breathe dry air. I scramble about trying to find my little white friend. Where did you go, friend? Where are you hiding? This is not the time to play games, we must consume what little gifts we receive in this tarnished wasteland, friend, please, drink. Where are you? Please, come back, friend. I need you. Where are you? I need you, please. I cannot go on without you, my dear companion, my sweet pocket-sized confidant. I run my hands through the sand and begin running back along the gouge that led me to the oasis, but before I know it, the path is gone. The desert has once again betrayed me.

My knees catch me as I go limp. I look to the sky as it darkens. The pale man will come soon, but I will have to share terrible news with him. I also notice, once he has appeared, that he has gotten smaller. I think I had noticed before, too, but thought nothing of it. But now that I have lost one long-time companion, and am afraid of losing my other, I notice that the pale man has become much smaller, much more distant. I ask him the names of the constellations. The next day, I make no progress. The pool has dried up and the following night, the pale man is the smallest I have ever seen him. He grows farther and farther away with each night, and eventually he, too, disappears. I am left alone in the grainy void. I know not what to do, but that is when I meet a new friend.

A little girl comes to me. Her beautiful black dress contrasts her pink face, and her gentle sway soothes me. She brings two more friends, and they all embrace and laugh together before coming to me. I lie in the sand wishing for nothing but to have friends in this terrible tundra, and the three of them stand over me. They bend down and kiss me all over, their lips soft and tickling me. They laugh, and I laugh, too. They embrace me, and I welcome their warmth. I feel alone no longer, and as they tear at my flesh, I watch the sky change colors. As night sets, I see flurries of color erupt from above. Like schools of fish with their complex patterns and formations, the colors dance through the sky. The tears in my eyes from the pain are joined by tears of enlightenment. This is what the desert has been waiting for. It wanted to bring me to the lowest point possible, so I may take pleasure in the simplicities of nature.

The girls finish their meals, and I am happy to have provided them nourishment in this hell, as they have provided me company. As the three of them rest after their feast, I watch the colors. They are beautiful and are a wonderful sight to doze off to. I have not slept in so long. I have forgotten what exhaustion feels like, but tonight, I may sleep. As I close my eyes, I see a glimmer of white. The kind, pale man is coming back. I will talk with him tomorrow. He will understand my tiredness this evening. And I will play with the girls again tomorrow, as well. I’m sure even my small, white friend will call out for me to pick it up once more. As I dream, I wonder what my next friend will be like. They have all been so kind, keeping me happy even while the desert, now red, is mean to me. I sleep, and I wonder, and I sleep, and I wonder. I am so tired; I sleep for so long…