Wide, flat expanses lend themselves to romance. The romance of the open air and the sky as they meet the horizon and walk away. In this dusty corner of the world the muezzin stirs. He who calls the believers to prayer.

Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar.

Allahu Akbar into the rising sun. Allahu Akbar to the departing night. Bleary eyed with sandalled feet, the faithful congregate through the thick dust. Voices hushed as though in respect as the light beckons.

Awake for morning in the bowl of night,
Has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight,
And Lo, the hunter of the east has caught,
The Sultan's turret in a noose of light.

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Emm (joined over 13 years ago)

Ummm... Tongue tied. A bad omen.

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Contemplaive

Prompt

Once, in Beijing, a young girl in a red gown huddled in a doorway.
Prompt suggested by Galen

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