Sand fills my throat... my lungs grow heavy with dust. The storm still rages outside, whipping drifts to dunes, and dunes to dust devils. Oh, how I yearn to feel the cold again... The sapphire coast, windswept waves glistening in the sun... Children sharing sun-seared yucca in silk hammocks... torturous memories, too bright to hold close... my throat aches.

Why did the Ancients forsake us after all...?