ABSTRACT
A desert of sand and stone stretches away to a milky horizon beneath an empty sky of impossible blue vastness. From the right of the picture, a tiny jeep appears, moving slowly, in a cloud of dust, across the landscape. You can just catch a thread of song rising from the jeep: children’s voices, shrill and unmelodious, piercing the shimmering heat. Now we’re right inside the jeep. A woman driving and three small boys bouncing on the seats, are belting out Oasis, in rough accompaniment to a tinny radio. Suddenly the woman brakes. ‘Look boys, pyramids!’ she exclaims, pointing. It’s me. And it’s true: there are pyramids in the distance. I’m jumping over the door of the jeep and running across the sand. The running feels effortless. When I stop and look back in order to check that the boys are behind me, I’ve come much further than I thought. The jeep is far away and the boys are still clambering over the sides, tiny as insects. I start back towards them, waving, but the dust is blowing up between us and I can only just make out their flailing arms and staggering steps. They are shouting at me to come back and I’m running again, but this time it’s too slow and their shouts and frantic gestures are obliterated by the thickening gusts of dust and sand.
