We wanted to exist purely in this land filled with endless hills of sand. Everywhere it stretched it shimmered, like we were in piles of glitter or snow. Here the sun is always rising or setting. A small breeze moves piles of sand from one hill to the other and our only job is to watch it. That is why we are here–to watch the sand move. We don’t know anything but we know this is real: the sand, and the small touches our fingers leave on each other. We don’t know anything else.
On one such day she looks at me and she says, “Is this all there is?”
I look out at the sand and I don’t understand what she is asking.