will then cast a spell, and you will be seduced into a long sleep. You do not realise you’re losing
your life, because you are too tired to find food and fresh water, too tired to carry on living.
Living creatures are victims of these crimes. Only 7.6 inches of rainfall fall a year; there must be
a reason for this. Gobi sheds no tears.
The reason is simple: Gobi is a silent crime scene. There are no screams, just pain. Living
creatures are not found in Gobi’s heart, but at his corners, at his edges. If you enter the vast zone,
you will uncontrollably slide into his hungry heart.
I stop there. I’ve been talking a lot, but am saying the same thing. I don’t trust Gobi; I never did.
The wind has started to get really strong, and the sand, Gobi’s ally, is fiercely whipping,
hitting my face. I hate it. I loathe it. It has started burning my eyes.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, I see a mysterious figure. Something motionless, green, could be a
stop sign. It can’t be. Impossible. What seems like a subservient soldier, but prickly and headless,
stuns me. The pointing- outwards thorns make me quiver at their sight. Gobi is a killer. He keeps
motionless statues around himself controlling deaths that the dry and hot sand causes.
Whatever sort of soldier it is, it can’t be poisonous. It must be weak, just like Gobi. It must feel
lonely, just like Gobi. I kick it slightly with a determined force. In that little zone there are no evil
thorns. The little soldier is robust. He can protect himself well. I kick again, with a more powerful
force. It creates a crack. Shining water, clean and most splendid, rhythmically pours down its
thorns. Gobi cannot keep treating his alliances this way. Unfortunately, Gobi wants its citizens, or
slaves to be selfish.
You can’t make creatures fight for their life. They deserve life.
Gobi, you’re not winning. I will not let you win.
‘Be surprised by me” – Gobi says
Fuego analyses this; he finds Gobi peculiar…wonderfully intriguing.
It is hard to live in something so harsh, like Gobi. It is almost unbeatable. It is a matter of
life and death. Some live, some survive, some die. Yet, with determined wishes to live, wonderful
creatures live in your vast deserts. You can be amazing…certainly. Marvellous… you can be a
stunning death scene, victory scene. In Gobi fossils have been found. Too many to count them all.
You have made creatures adapt to your environment, which is so extreme. You have created a
bond that you can’t break free from. You have been hypnotised. Creatures have connected to you,
and now you’re not a challenge anymore.
The word ‘fantastically splendid’ explains you. Even though you seem monotone, you have a
bunch of colours. There are shades and tones of red, orange, yellow, gold, an immense range of
browns with the colourless blue of the sky. Perfection has created you with colours. The sky covers
you and makes you infinite, most of all, without an end. The sun creates texture that you can see.
The sun makes you bright: full of life yet full of death. Gobi, you are unique.
I am galloping back to my cottage. Gobi, your beauty is my trap. The desert will kill me
because I’m not used to your extremes. I still hate you.
It’s really hot now. You are a traitor Gobi. Whenever someone compliments you, you turn your
back on him/her. Do you know how? You oscillate temperature like it’s just a hairstyle change.
From 15 degrees, you can suddenly with a simple finger snap, raise it to 30 degrees. Why do you
exist? You just make life complicated. Extremes are terrible. You can go from hot to cold, from
cold to hot. From -40 to 50 degrees Celsius.
Two-faced.
