one sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing.
yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams.
everything changes, everything moves, everything revolutionizes, all flies and goes.
the desert was unchanging, constant, in the day. in the night, the moon was cold salvation, and the stars an atlas to the nearest haven. miranna was not blinded by false hope; she would surely meet death here under the unforgiving sun.

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