WOX TRAVEL CONTEST | Australian Desert |

How easily you get used to everyday life in the desert! Until the afternoon you remain in the shadows of your tent, with your book and your thoughts. You daydream, and shadows slide across the floor. You listen to the wind coming from the high sand dunes that await you. In the late afternoon you drive to them. Your bare feet unsteadily cross the hours into the night. The light is getting more bronze.
You are alone.
On another planet.
It's hard to walk through the desert - its dunes suck up oxygen and... you suffocate. You take a Sisyphean step and sink, lose yourself in nothingness. And you find yourself - nothing is everything. You are Exupery and an exiled Prince at the same time. And an old man with chapped lips from thirst, and a king of an asteroid without subjects, and a starving desert fox looking for love one last time.

I climb the highest dune. My heart beats with the echo of all the mirages. The little wrinkles around my eyes filled with creaking grains of sand. I'm on break. Your own. I take a sip of water. Sunset is coming. And it stays, as if forever. It is as if the world stops, immersed in this luminous gold, in the mantle of silence that the cosmos has brought. Even the wind dies down completely. All is suddenly forgiven. Taken and paid for. Suffered. Outlived. And the sunset doesn't end. Acceptance e. Release. Am.
It's like I'm somewhere beyond death.

There, behind the many dunes, the tent camp, the fire, the torches, the lanterns are waiting for me. And the night. I am not in a hurry. Here in the desert, the nights are studded with billions of sparkling celestial stars - nowhere more visible than among the sands. There are no electric lights, boulevards, neon lights. The stars shower upon you like blessings that have traveled countless light years to your senses. They kiss your eyelids and fall like snowflakes into your palms. The stars in the velvet of the night wished for you, and you made it come true.
There must be a well hidden somewhere. The prince had said it, and Exupery had written it. The fox knows the way there. But still there is no one to take. It's a desert. Another planet.

A desert is an ocean of sand.
Ocean - the desert of water.
He is the Beginning. She is the end. From it life pulsates with a tide. And in HER it merges with eternity.
Our world - an hourglass is huge - time crushes everything, breaks it into fragility, grinds it down to a grain, makes it pass away. To stop. It's an ex. Epitaph. An unheard requiem.

The bottom of the hourglass is the desert. Expired. Everything. Nothing. Sand and dust. The rocks, the paths, the stairs, the cries, the wings of the birds, the mothers' palms, the scarlet soul of the sunrises - everything has poured out there: dust by dust, particle by particle. It was there, it shone with its significance. Loved, jubilant, seemingly eternal. There - at the top of the hourglass, with the first rinse of the baby, with the melodies, with the blink of an eye.

The deserts... They are made of our time. From our illusion that we are eternal.
From clinging to false prophets.
From wars. And hunger.
Although we are full!
I create the desert. In your vanity. And in fatigue. You create the desert. In the plans for the day after tomorrow, in the purchases, in the gossip. In your doubts.
As we dance in our sinking sands, she waits. The desert. He knows. He rules every "tomorrow". And the morning after "tomorrow".

There are us! We are in a moment. On the edge of the desert. We are wings. One more second before we are dust.

Participate with your travel story and photos. You can do it by visiting the link:
https://steemit.com/hive-185836/@benoitblanc/wox-travel-contest-or-week-2
organized by @benoitblanc

In this beautiful contest I would like to invite @dove11 @ultravioletmag @jeffbradt @meehu @sacra97 @beemengine