He continued to feed the fire, and the boy stayed on until the desert turned pink in the setting sun.
He felt the urge to go out into the desert, to see if its silence held the answers to his questions.
He wandered for a while, keeping the date palms of the oasis within sight.
He listened to the wind, and felt the stones beneath his feet.
Here and there, he found a shell, and realized that the desert, in remote times, had been a sea.
He sat on a stone, and allowed himself to become hypnotized by the horizon.
He tried to deal with the concept of love as distinct from possession, and couldn’t separate them.
But Fatima was a woman of the desert, and, if anything could help him to understand, it was the desert.
As he sat there thinking, he sensed movement above him. Looking up, he saw a pair of hawks flying high in the sky.
He watched the hawks as they drifted on the wind. Although their flight appeared to have no pattern, it made a certain kind of sense to the boy.
It was just that he couldn’t grasp what it meant. He followed the movement of the birds, trying to read something into it.
Maybe these desert birds could explain to him the meaning of love without ownership.
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