Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing

Fishing

The only thing visible for miles around were the rolling sand dunes.

As the Land Rover groaned up yet another dune in the singeing sun, the driver and the passengers saw a lone figure atop another gritty ridge. It came to a halt a hundred yards from the still, hunched figure. They alighted, stretched their limbs and exchanged glances.

Strangers in high noon desert. Even from this close it was hard to tell anything with certainty about the figure. Perplexed, the driver decided to approach the still figure.

His feet crunching the sand and the wind rustling through his clothes tempered the pervasive desert silence.

'Salam, what are you doing?' His eyes were now focused on the squatting figure. In freeze-frame slowness the figure turned and looked at the driver and uttered a single word reply, 'Fishing,' and just as deliberately the old Bedouin resumed his crouched stance.

The driver stopped in his track.

Just then the wind dropped and a sudden silence overwhelmed. The driver and his passengers could now hear the murmur of their hearts. He motioned everyone to get on board and drove away.

The old Bedouin remained motionless.

Earlier:

Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach