A place sits in every desert in the shadow of a mountain.  The outside appears plain.  Simple poles and boards latched together and held within the dry earth.

Caution is advised before entering this place.  It cannot be entered by choice but by call.  If ones head is turned by curiosity then the survey of surroundings begin.

Modest covering overlay-ed taking the shape of objects below, these white walls meet your gaze.  The walls are high so as not to reveal anything to the casual passerby.  The length is twice the width.

Though it is not the outer shell that draws one to this place but sound and smell coming from within.  The sound turns the head and the smell bids you stay.  These sounds and smells are not the same.  The one end is loud and the smells different, savory mixed with a foreboding sense of unpleasantness.  The other end is fragrant with silent whispers.  There is a need at one end and desire toward the other but first you must find entrance.

Your eyes begin to sting as you lift your head searching.  Smoke rises from behind a thick curtain and a cloud descends at the opposite end.  Music intermingles with the sound of human voices and yet that one descending gathers all the senses pulling one not from without but within the embrace.

You cannot touch but you feel touched as though someone called your name with no words.  A wind blows and catches the edges of your soul and though you feel the dirt from the earth beneath beating your face you breathe as the curtain lifts now caught within your own hand still your feet remain firm.  A choice is formed within your mind.  Driven by a need to see, held still by a desire to know one must just stand and decide to make the choice to enter….

THE CURTAIN

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