"Many say, “Nothing happens in the desert.” But no, everything happens here! The light of my candle flickers, I hear distant conversations in Arabic . . . shared laughter, an invisible guitar . . . strumming.

No. Not one grain of sand is static in the desert.

Voices humming, a lone flashlight sweeping the sand, red and blue flashing lights of an airplane gliding through the sky, possibly on its way from Beirut to Cairo.

And Sayid told me, “Don’t let the beauty of the desert deceive you, Ayishah. It is the Wild West out there; a big chess game going on in Sinai’s wilderness. The smugglers know the area well. They blend in with the stones. People here are on desert time. In this biblical wilderness, ambushes and pursuits can last for days. The Bedouin have one great advantage; patience . . ."

My last candle dies out, and I write these last words in the dark.