There’s not much out there. When I look out of my window on a cold and lonely night, a random speeding car lights up the road briefly. Sometimes it takes longer for those flashes of life to race past my field of vision. It took me four minutes to take that photo, holding my phone really still so the Night Mode doesn’t result in a blurry mess. Thought it would be worth it, but there’s not much out there to capture.
In the daylight, it does seem better. The sun brightly shining over endless expanses of sand and some skyscrapers in the distant horizon. When I wake up in the morning, I pull back the curtain and greet the day with a wry smile. Those people who came to this place from their lush and green environments must be feeling out of place. But for someone like me, who has lived in Saudi Arabia for most of his life, the sand is a comforting sight. Staring out into the desert is akin to gazing out into the open sea if you want to feel that way. The sand may look like it’s still but it is forever shifting and churning. Not exactly brimming with flora and fauna, but there is a wee bit of life even in the most arid of deserts. And that can give you hope if you’re desperate enough to find it. To some, the desert is full of optimistic promise, like a cactus half full. You just have to look past the sand. The immense amounts of sand… everywhere.
So, there’s not much outside my window. But if I look hard enough, I can see myself. I can actually see myself in the glass. Because it’s partially reflective. Expected some deep correlation to one’s own self? Fat chance. You came to the wrong blog.
To Sandy Clause!