Hello,

Sometimes it takes nothing more than a moment of silence to find yourself again. But what if this moment takes place not just inside you, but in a mystical place in another world?

The story you are about to read invites you to discover such a place of imagination – a place that offers you refuge whenever you need it.

Let the desert, its voice and its mystery take you on a journey that not only touches the senses, but also the heart.

Taking refuge in the voice of the desert

You find yourself in the endless sands of the desert.

The wind gently brushes your skin, carrying with it the scent of heat and dryness and making fine grains dance across your legs. The sand under your feet is hot, almost too hot, and trickles through your toes in tiny streams.

A landscape spreads out around you that is both majestic and unreal. The dunes rise up like waves of a golden sea, shaped by the wind that never rests.

The sun is high in the sky, a glistening fire that paints white areas in the sand and dazzles your eyes.

You don’t know exactly how you got to this place.

There is no map, no path, only your instinct that drives you forward.

You sense that something is waiting for you here – a realization, a secret that wants to reveal itself to you.

Your footsteps leave a trail that is slowly erased by the wind as you move, lost in thought.

But then, on the horizon, something breaks the perfect harmony of the dunes. A dark spot, small and inconspicuous, attracts your attention.

Curiosity drives you forward, and the closer you get, the more details are revealed.

It is no ordinary stone or shadow. It is a structure rising from the sand – a hill surrounded by scattered stones and debris.

The sun moves with you, slowly sinking towards the horizon as you reach the hill.

There, among the remnants of a long-forgotten time, you see it: An archway, weathered but still proud.

The last testimony to a place that was once something great.

The light of the setting sun falls through the arch, bathing it in a bright orange, as if to show you the way.

You pause, captivated by the scene, before finally approaching.

The archway looms before you, a proud remnant of times gone by, framed by the golden rays of the setting sun.

Its light paints soft shadows on the weathered stones scattered around the arch, as if they had once formed part of a larger whole.

You approach carefully, almost reverently, and feel a strange calm emanating from this place.

As you step under the arch, it feels as if you are crossing a threshold – not only spatially, but also mentally.

The sand beneath your feet suddenly seems cooler, and the air carries a hint of something ancient that gives you pause. In front of you lies the hill, criss-crossed by a strange symmetry.

It’s not a natural hill, you can clearly see that now.

You bend down to look at one of the stones lying around. The surface is smooth, almost polished, and decorated with strange symbols – lines that run across the stone in swirling patterns, as if someone had chiseled the history of this place into it.

You run your fingers over it and feel a strange warmth spreading from the touch.

Your eyes follow the stones across the square until they catch on a dark depression in the side of the hill. A quiet tugging in your chest tells you that you need to go there.

Your heart beats faster as you approach the hollow. When you arrive, you discover something that takes your breath away: A curtain of fabric, light yet opaque, moving gently in the wind.

With a mixture of curiosity and caution, you push the fabric aside and look inside. The room behind it is cool and circular, the walls painted with the same symbols as the stones outside.

But here, in the glow of a flickering light, they seem to be alive. The shadows dance across the walls and tell stories that you don’t understand, but which cast a spell over you.

You gently pull the curtain further open and carefully crawl into the room.

To your surprise, the room inside is a comfortable height and you can sit up.

You feel like you’re in an ancient dream as you look around.

It looks like the inside of a pyramid, but instead of being angular, it curves upwards until it ends in a small hole in the ceiling. It is a cone, and it seems to be from a long-forgotten time.

The walls around you are inscribed and painted all over with the characters and figures, far more than the section you saw through the entrance.

You look around spellbound and let this fantastic impression of times gone by sink in.

At your feet, you also look at the small lamp, surrounded by two blankets, which illuminates the whole cone with its flickering light and bathes it in ghostly light.

You touch the stone and trace the characters on the walls with your fingertips. The stone feels warm, not rough as you expected.

No. The figures and indentations in the stone are very soft, as if the water had washed them out of the stone for ages.

You can recognize the figures of birds, people and characters of various kinds that have been applied to the stones in rows.

As you look at them, you notice that the signs continue to differ from one another across the rows, as if different peoples had placed them on the stones at different times.

Completely caught up in your thoughts and discoveries, you don’t notice at first that the fabric of the curtain is moving.

Only when it starts to rustle softly and the candle in front of you flickers more strongly are you torn from your thoughts.

You notice another movement in the corner of your eye. The curtain moves, and for a moment you think the wind has caught it.

But then you feel it: a presence.

Your senses sharpen, your breathing becomes shallower and you slowly turn around. A hand holds the curtain aside. It is small, slender and yet appears strong.

A figure slowly moves into the room. Its silhouette is framed by the light of the setting sun, which gives it an almost supernatural aura.

Dark robes cover them almost completely, but their eyes – deep and unfathomable – fix you with an intensity that gives you pause.

The figure doesn’t seem surprised by your presence in this place, but the eyes look at you with a mixture of appraisal and curiosity.

The figure pauses for a moment before speaking quietly.

“Don’t be afraid,” she says in a voice that is both gentle and penetrating. You blink in surprise as you realize that she is speaking in your mother tongue.

Slowly she removes her robes, layer by layer, until a narrow, weather-beaten face is revealed. Her dark hair falls in soft curls over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkle at you with a mixture of curiosity and warmth.

She smiles, and at that moment you feel strangely safe, even though you don’t know this place.

“Welcome,” she finally says. “Welcome to a place that’s meant for you. Are you ready to learn?”

Her words resonate with you and although you don’t know what she means, you sense that she is right. Something inside you is ready to embrace the unknown.

“Sit down,” says the voice softly, and her hand points to the blanket next to you. She herself takes a seat on the other one, her movements fluid and calm, as if she had all the time in the world.

“They call me the voice of the desert,” she begins. “My people have guarded this place for centuries. We believe that only those who are willing to learn will find their way here – even if they themselves don’t know it yet.”

You look at her, unsure what to say. Her eyes are fixed on you, watchful yet calm. “Why … am I here?” you finally ask quietly.

She smiles, a gentle, knowing smile. “Fate has guided you. You set out on the path without knowing what to expect, and that was the test.”

“To be open, not only to what you can see, but also to what you can feel.”

Her words are simple, and yet they touch something inside you. You feel how your thoughts clear, how an invisible burden falls away from you.

“The desert is a place of truth,” she continues. “Only the essentials remain here. Everything else is carried away by the wind.”

She strokes the ground with her hand and the sand trickles between her fingers.

“The same goes for you. Here you can let go of everything that doesn’t really belong to you.”

You nod slowly, her words sinking deep into you. For a moment, the world outside this room seems to fade away.

There is only this place, the flickering lamp and the voice that guides you.

“Are you ready?” she finally asks. “Ready to take this place as your own?”

You nod again, and this time you feel a sense of security that you never knew before.

You spend this night and many weeks with her in the desert, meditating in the sand, getting to know her people and exploring their world together with her.

You notice how patterns dissolve within you, you open up new horizons and your view expands further and further, even far beyond the endless dunes of the desert.

She shows you beautiful oases, special ruins and shares a lot of knowledge with you.

Before you leave her and her people again, you sit together one evening in the ancient cone.

“It’s time,” she says quietly as the last night in the desert dawns. You sit in the cone again, the flickering lamp between you, and the silence seems to envelop you both like an invisible cloak.

“You learned a lot,” she says, “not from me, but from this place and from yourself. It was a pleasure to share this time with you.”

You nod, but your gaze remains fixed on the walls, on the stories contained in the stones. They tell of the many people who have been here – and of their traces.

The voice takes your hand and gently turns it upwards. In it lies a small, smooth stone with a point that fits perfectly into the recesses in the wall.

“It’s your moment,” she says quietly. “Leave your mark here. This place is yours now too.”

You close your eyes and let the tip of the stone touch the wall. Without thinking, you move your hand and feel the symbol emerge from within you.

Your fingers follow a thought that cannot be put into words, and the lines take shape as if of their own accord.

When you open your eyes, you see your work: a sign, small yet significant, which is now part of this ancient place.

It joins the many symbols that have come before you – and yet it is unique, just like you.

The voice steps next to you and its gaze follows yours. She smiles, gently and with a warmth that you can feel. “Your symbol will remain, just as you will always be a part of this place.

Come back whenever you need him – here or in your thoughts.”

You leave the cone together, and as you feel the fresh air of the desert, your gaze lingers on the ruins one last time.

The flickering lamp inside still casts shadows on the walls, but your symbol shines brighter than any flame in your heart and will never leave you again.

The desert and its voice may seem far away, but the place you have just visited is always with you. All it takes is a moment of peace to return there in your thoughts.

Perhaps on your own journey you will find new places of refuge that give you strength – or people who, like the voice of the desert, share wisdom with you. The world is full of such places and encounters, if we are willing to discover them.

What place is your refuge when you need a break? And what encounter has unexpectedly enriched your life? Share your thoughts – I look forward to hearing your stories.

Best regards