Thanks people. That's all I have to say other than – Try to guess the location.

(x) X (x)

Thirsty Space

A desert, thirsty and windswept, but somehow it lures peculiar bipeds that walk, clothed in their colour-rich rags, to lope along the sands.

They dance among the scavengers, pick from the debris and discarded skeletons that they prize as high as any jewel.

Even in the most miserable of weather they approach, even if to do naught but watch the wind race.

They cannot tell who wins, but still delight in the chase, not fully understanding the meaning of the loss.

Strange that such a barren wasteland should be considered a paradise in the hottest and driest of weather.

In the word paradise there is the syllable of ice. Nothing could be further from the truth at that time.

Even as I stand before it, judging in a way I disapprove, a chill runs through me at the bleakness of the scope. Birds circle above, reminding me of vultures, waiting for me to fall, submit to their flesh-tearing beaks.

But death seems a lot closer in this place, in a lonely, frozen way. As if I could all of a sudden, freeze up, and fall lifeless to the ever-shifting pockets of sand at any moment.

Although at the same time, the area has a timeless air, maybe it's winter chill has the power to prevent movement of time.

To stop aging?

No chance that it would be advertised as a healthy place to stay for the rich though.

No, this place has not got an easy going, friendly attitude. It is more likely to reject or dispose its undesirables itself.

And only it knows the passing grade of its view on people. No way of telling what it classifies as an undesirable.

You'll just have to risk its wrath yourself.