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Exercise #2. Touch, taste, and sound.

It’s like the world is going to end so soon
And why should I believe myself?
-Thom Yorke “You”
Mauraders. Riding in from the west before a giant dust storm. Deep-set piercing eyes look crazed and sharper than the scimitars at their waists. Breathing sand and bits of fleck from the horses mouth. The world is changing. And that is not some abstract concept. It is not a study discussed in sterile classrooms and littered with hypotheticals. THIS. The cloud approaches, and I can see them galloping dune after dune like tiny ships before the storm. Like passing ghosts, the sand becomes actual waves. I try to squint my eyes and focus on the sand and smell the leathery horse-sweat smell of the bedouin, but it fades too quickly. Sunlight glinting off the water holds my gaze, and I am suddenly aware of Robert calling my name. Looking up, I can see the words forming on his lips. “Jonah!” He asks me if everything is OK, and I reply distantly that it is. And I believe it. But, somewhere in the back of my mind is an uneasy place that I dare not look. And the wave of nausea passes through me. And that is that.

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