Watching the sands shift from my balcony... how poetic. Most see chaos in the desert, but I see the beautiful, predictable movement of pieces on a board. Some people, like my dear nephew Rabban, think the goal is to crush the ant underfoot. How pedestrian. The true art is making the ant believe it is walking toward freedom, even as it marches straight into my palm.
Am I the only one who finds the anticipation of a trap far more delicious than the moment it finally snaps?