It was a grey sky above a cracked grey desert. No living thing crossed this place. The name first given to it by man was long forgotten and the true name had never been spoken. It was simply The Desert. It was an ancient place hoarding time as desperately as thirsty men kiss water.

     The Sleeping Man walked across the dry, baked ground, counting his steps carefully. There was no landmark, no star, no wind to guide his way. There were only instructions which had been carved into. . .