It's 5 am, or close enough anyway, and I am still awake.
Tossing and turning, like one more flop on this bed is going to land me in sleep.
I am up, thinking of him. Wondering where he is, how he is, what he's thinking right now, and how stupid it is that there is an ocean between us.
Full of fish and lost cities and organisms that somehow thrive in the underwater volcanos and have you heard that there are whole mountain ranges down there?
Who can keep track of it all?
I have to believe Someone can, someone does.
And that I am involved in that; I am being kept track of, so to speak.
I have been here 3 weeks already and have only one week left to go. But right now, at 5 am, each day of that week stretches before me like the desert itself. Like the desert without a guide. Like the desert without even a pair of sunglasses.
But I've heard of the desert rose, and I am convinced that I will find it; beauty thrives in impossible places, made even more startling by the contrast it makes as it blooms.