An adventure, both terrifying and magnificent. Unlike anything contemporary – a wavelength of its own, and yet, familiar. Deeply familiar. Uncomfortably so. No pretense. Truth. Painted. As a beautiful literary story should be.

A boy awakens, his hut open to neighbors and the elements. It is the middle of the night, and the small, religious community is surrounded, swallowed, by an ancient desert that spans outwards in every direction. Scribbles and stone engravings echo out from eons passed, and mystical lore told from person to person creates a world filled with unknown mystery, and yet, seemingly absent anything supernatural.

His dreams talk to him, and he talks back. So begins the epic adventure. As much a burgeoning expansion of learning about the world he finds himself in, but also the world within, as they both collide. Loneliness in the extreme, moated by the pain of loss, betrayal and abandonment. But even as his brain breaks, and his prayers go unheeded, some inexplicable catharsis is discovered.

It is, after all, a fact – in our darkest times, we are often the only ones present to witness them. We carry them with us. And being the sole witness to such extremes, does it become our bane? Or the source of all that makes life glorious?

This is a work of decades, not hours, or weeks. Edited immaculately. With love and care. Uncompromising and masterful. A classic, as all beautiful works are: not comparative, debased by ratings and reviews. Read it as you, for you, for it was written for you. It reaches out, if you will reach in, and allow yourself to be immersed.

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