“Nothing moves on the endless swampy plain, only the breath of the night sways the short grass. For many years now, not a single bird has flown under the huge blind shield of the sky. Once upon a time, a long time ago, small pebbles pretended to be alive here - they crumbled and crumbled into dust. Now in the souls of two people who are hunched over a fire, lost in the desert, only night stirs; darkness flows quietly through the veins, rhythmically, inaudibly knocks in the temples. The reflections of the fire dance on bearded faces, trembling with orange splashes in the deep wells of the pupils. Each listens to the even, calm breathing of the other and even seems to hear how slowly, like a lizard’s, the eyelids blink. Finally, one begins to stir up the coals in the fire with a sword...”