The desert called; its tone silent. It asked me out, and so I went. One patch of dune looked like the rest; so, I couldn't tell which place was best to burn just like a slice of bread stuck in the slot, 'mid burning threads: those glowing wires, exuding heat that burn the head and burn the feet. And so, I marched across the sands in search of more temperate lands, but I never reached such a place and vanished there, without a trace.
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