The Nile

Close your eyes. Breathe deep. What do you smell? The foamy tang of the river water, a faint tinge of spices, the earthy sand after a day spent baking in the sun. The Sahara is to your left, a village darkened by night, to your right.
You are on a felucca, a water vessel of the ancients, slicing through the Nile. You think back, to the day you just spent at the Nubian village -- playing soccer with the laughing children, exploring their bright, clay domiciles, eating roast lamb with your fingers, the grease dripping down your wrists as you took in your new surroundings with commingled joy and awe.
Now on your journey back, you lean back against the hard seat of the felucca, raise your face to the stars. They are heartbreaking in their clarity. The only sound is the rushing water as the boat cleaves the river. The desert is a stark and desolate presence, overwhelming -- yet you do not feel alone. The night is cool, the breeze is alluring, calling your name. Your limbs are slack. You lean back and sigh, trail your fingers through the warm waters.

Never have you felt more alive.