Читать книгу Winnower - Aaron Brown - Страница 8

The herd of camels encircles our village. The beasts shift silently on their feet with the moon giving birth to their shadows. We sleep across a mat laid out on the sand-grass. One man mumbles something, another ventures out into the dark to relieve himself. Still, others remain awake to muse about the spirits that follow you at night, spirits you turn to never see.

Finally, the dawn dew seeps into every fiber of my clothes, every dead blade in the grass mat, and I am bathed into wakefulness. I lie still as the men perform ablutions, washing with vigor their feet and arms and hands. They join together to pray toward the sunrise, to the bustling Mecca in another world. One of the nomads walks to the nearest camel and empties her of milk, bringing the full bowl to us. We each draw from it and pass it on.