of a young man, barely past his thirties. His eyes turned to gaze at the setting sun. “I was,” the
photographer’s voice was brimming with spite and scorn. “I will never be a photographer ever again.”
Aaron raised his eyebrows. “That face… I have seen you before. You were the one that won the
Pulitzer Prize. That photo was controversial indeed…”
The photographer’s expression was unreadable. He started to get up and leave, but Aaron
caught his hand. “The temperature is going to fall below 40 tonight. If you don’t want to die of
cold out there, come inside and stay. Besides, someone who speaks the same language is hard to
come by here. It’s good to have someone to talk to.”
The photographer hesitated. Then slowly, he got up and walked towards the tent.
Gusts of subzero wind blew across the desert at night, but they did no harm to the two men
inside the tent. The lantern inside the tent flickered, casting ominous shadows against the tarp.
The photographer leaned back against the tent. He broke the silence. “Why are you here, then?”
Aaron flashed a quick smile, as if he had been waiting for this question. “So you want to know
why? Then sit tight for a story.
“I travel here once every few years in memory of my…friend.” Aaron hesitated before uttering
the word “friend” softly. “She died years ago.”
Suddenly the photographer did not feel at ease anymore, as if the temperature had fallen a few
more degrees.
Aaron started. “We met at an archaeological site, here in the Gobi. I’m an archaeologist, you
know – I was inspired by the ordeal of Roy Chapman Andrews, the early 20th century explorer
and adventurer. He found invaluable dinosaur fossils here in the Gobi. We may be sitting on top of
a fossil as we speak.” Aaron’s eyes twinkled at the mere prospect of a great archaeological find.
“The first time I met her I knew she was something different: the way she talked, the way she
laughed, her knowledge – I fell for her instantly.”
How love works is such a mystery, the photographer mused. He remained silent, beckoning
Aaron to continue.
“It was a matter of time before the feeling became mutual. We started dating after leaving the
Gobi, and so to commemorate our relationship we promised to travel to the Gobi once every few
years. We loved the Gobi sunset – watching the sun go down with her at my side is one of the best
memories I’ve ever had.” Aaron’s face was wrapped in nostalgia and happiness, as if he was back
in the days when love was in the air.
“So what happened after that?” the photographer asked quietly.
Aaron’s smile vanished. As if on cue, the wind outside picked up its pace, rattling the tent.
“I started to feel some cracks in our relationship a few years in: she was always shying away
from me, as if she had something to hide. I decided to retain our relationship, by planning to
propose to her in the Gobi as a surprise.
“After I took out the wedding ring, her expression was one of detest and unwillingness. She
refused promptly, knocking the ring out of my hands and announcing our break-up.
“The only thing I did was to stare in disbelief at the ring on the ground. Our relationship,
gone, with a sweep of her hand! Ever since then I vowed never to return to this place full of
conflicting memories.”
* * *
