Dawn has not yet broken over the sand dunes, but the sand already holds the breath of the night. Maps are not needed here - the path is known by the melodies of the zurna, weaving into the camels' steady tread. The rhythm is not a beat, but the resilient wind driving waves across the dunes. The melody rises from the heat haze, like a mirage, and stretches beyond the horizon, to where cities sleep, shrouded in the silk of stars