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A wind takes my skirt off. I feel the desert where it touches my skin. I’m thinking of old ages that has gone in this regular silence. How many people have gone from this desert, who knows? The warmth of untouched places is nothing according to this fire. I’m thinking of the people who has swarmed with this sand. Here, people just wait, said a guy whose skin comes from the desert “And this is the summary, how we have our days in here.” I’m holding the warmth of the lonely days. I found the name of my daughter who will pace in my body several years later: Sahara. We hit the road in the morning without Sun. There was an excitement for everybody about traveling but for me, a curiosty of the desert. The men of the desert were waiting for us very near to our hotel. With several camels, they were sitting in the sands. Shame, I said, “We withhold them from their sleeping.” I was sad about what I do, I bothered them. The phaeton comes back to my memory of the islands with many colors of Istanbul. Sea or desert, the persecution that we’re doing to animals is the same everywhere. But I felt an extraordinary desire to meet my camel. We were going to our camels, a crusty one suitable for me, he’s stubborn, like me. The hairs in the same color with the desert of him, in his back there is an old-brown saddle and a rope in his mouth in case if he bits me... İt’s an amazing adventure for me who didn’t ride a horse before. I was sitting right there on the back of my camel. The man of the desert in black who contacts our camels with a language we didn’t understand, comanded. Then we stood up, firstly hind legs then front legs. He found the balance soon and we started to walk. I was so high, the sand was far away from me. But the animal was working out to contact with his nature. He didn’t unsaddle me, he accepted to travel with me. I felt an amazing faith and love for him. I wish he would forgive me. He will take me the right place, I wanted him to act by his nature. The desert opened its house with big habaneros. It showed us into its depth. I loved the calm day. This tale did not similar to none of them has told. Many stories, many lives were laying down in the sands. I saw a family away, they dressed black, a father, a mother, and a daughter. I wished I was them, I wanted to belong to the desert because it’s a place where nothing is singular, nothing is autonomous. The desert took us all with every detail in it. I was thinking of the bazaar we’ve traveled last night. There was a village where every house has made by land, light white- brown, short and small, far away from every artless. There were always sands in the ground. İt’s from the merry yellowness of the desert. Those were coming and winding our feet from the depth stories. These people had an accepting, to us, to themselves, to their lives and their natures. The most interesting thing for me was the songs of bedouins’. Their musical instruments smelled like mint tea. Again the same feeling, the music reminded that everything comes from the desert. My camel let me down and finally I reached my Sahara. İt’s so depth further than an ocean, every side of it’s transparent, there was no variety, it opened as itself to us. I know even if I go a thousand meters I will see the same view in its skin. I took its sand in my hand. It slipped from my hand without hesitation. There was no doubt in this house. I understand why the Arabic people are brown. I blessed my brownness. I was holding this universe with my hand, I remembered my existance, I understood why I was here. Now everything in its proper place, I’m holding the stars in my hand and I’m thankful to my own desert.