Sandy Road

“You’ve come all the way from South Asia. Welcome. Have you decided what you’d like to order?” the snow leopard asked. Yeneos hesitated, then turned to the Marco Polo sheep. “What should we get?” The Marco Polo sheep looked at the snow leopard with an unmistakably displeased expression. Reluctantly, he said, “A salad of lichens and moss, and a scorpion soup.” After the snow leopard had left, Yeneos leaned toward him and spoke in a low voice. “You really don’t like snow leopards, do you?” “Of course I don’t,” the Marco Polo sheep replied, exasperated. They stretched their arms across the tribal rug spread over the table and waited. A painting hung on the wall, depicting red flowers and buds. From the ceiling hung Turkish lanterns, their brightly colored pieces of glass arranged in intricate geometric patterns, casting an almost fantastical atmosphere throughout the restaurant. Looking bored, Yeneos gazed up at the ceiling from time to time, flipping through the menu in the meantime. Before long, their dishes arrived. “There’s something distinctly foreign about this place. Even the seasoning of the food… it’s a little different,” the Marco Polo sheep remarked as he brought a piece of lichen to his mouth. Yeneos nodded in agreement and ate a scorpion. A faint sound reached his ears, like the soft crunch of fish roe being crushed between the teeth. After that They crossed the folded mountains that rose towards the sky, following the road along the salt lake. Vast stretches of coarse salt covered the earth, reaching all the way to the horizon.The Milky Way stretched across the sky, a shimmering expanse of silver scales.The inside of the car was freezing. The Marco Polo sheep shivered.