Come to think of it, maybe God is a He after all, because only a cruel force would create something this beautiful and make it inaccessible to most people.

Individually, every grain of sand brushing against my hands represents a story, an experience, and a block for me to build upon for the next generation.

More than anything, this place feels familiar. I bury my hands in the hot sand and think about the embodiment of memory or, more specifically, our natural ability to carry the past in our bodies...

Love is a cat wearing a fur coat in a sauna in the middle of the Sahara Desert at noon. Trust me, I speak from personal experience.