You could’ve missed him. Too still, too pale, too far out.
Between the rigid shapes, his body seems soft—almost drawn.
No tracks, no noise. Just step by step through a land no one hurries through.
Where cactus grows, nothing moves fast.
And sometimes: nothing moves at all.
Between the rigid shapes, his body seems soft—almost drawn.
No tracks, no noise. Just step by step through a land no one hurries through.
Where cactus grows, nothing moves fast.
And sometimes: nothing moves at all.