Frances Leung
Tick-tock, tick-tock, the darkening night blue from the east sky, was pressing down on the deepening red sun westward below the horizon.
Sunset on Ksar Tascine
“Am I to die here, in this rippling sea of sand? Is that how the universe pays back my admiration of the Sahara?”
It was afternoon time. The sun started sliding off the sky. Our car was stuck in an ankle-high sand drift in an infinite stretch of sandy desert. The Tunisian driver had gone for hours, no sign of his return. The only breathing creatures were myself, my travel companion and the annoying flies humming around my ears, which had obscured the clean view of the plain horizon. There was no mobile phone connection, no sign of human, no passing vehicle, only us, waiting for the return of the driver, only if he was willing to return. I dared not to move an inch, lest I would lose sight of my car, lest the car would take off by itself without me, and I would be doomed.
While waiting, I was like a vegetative patient on her sickbed, gazing far and near, helplessly and motionlessly. The cloudless west sky, the endless undulating sand sea, the orb of sun, the breezy desert air. That was my world, my entire world: lifeless, clean, alone, static.
Amidst the dead static, one thing did move, the sun. In the unnoticeable planetary orbit, the rays of sunlight crept down from the crown of my head to my eyebrow, my nose, now touching my chin. The sun was disappearing down the edge of the horizon.
Amidst the dead static, in the unnoticeable planetary orbit, the colours of the earth changed. Replacing the glaring bleached yellow at midday was a myriad of blue- the dark blue in the high sky, the baby blue in the mid sky, and the greenish blue in the low sky. At the foot of this varieties of blue was the deepening yellow horizon stretched endlessly. Standing against the vast clear horizon was the sinking sun, of which brim got sharper and clearer. Round the roundel of the brim was a full display of rainbow colours. In front of the roundel was the boundless and darkening yellow sand sea which was, by degrees, taken over by a battalion of shades and shadows from the east.
Not a cloud to obstruct, not a moving creature to distract, I felt I was the only on-looker who solely, totally, wholly, thoroughly owned this view of grand space, this replay of genesis.
I held on to my faith in the trusty universe, patiently waited for the driver to come back.
Amidst the static waiting, I played time keeper. I counted up every change of colour in every passing minute.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, the darkening night blue from the east sky, was pressing down on the deepening red sun westward below the horizon.
Tick-tock, tic-toc, the deeper red the sun glowed, the more colours spilled, turning the horizon into a glorious rainbow.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, the night had overtaken the day.
Tick-tock, tick-tock, the sun had orbited out of sight.
“Is the driver ever to come back?”
