Travel

"The memory of the desert is an old dream of the north."
At the end of the year, I unexpectedly walked into the first desert in my life. The setting sun in the sky pulled me onto the terrace. The outline of the sand dunes covered with snow in the distance gradually disappeared. Sitting in a recliner in front of the French window, the warmth and roughness of the north came directly to me. There was still a faint light in the yard, reflecting on the small Crescent Lake. The desert spread out under my feet, broad and deep, as if the world was born only for them at this moment.