Tonight he is cautious, quiet and slow. He walks as if he were sliding through a hot, wild Savannah. He takes his time. He touches each herb, feels the roughness of the fur and the fluffiness of the wool. He slowly dips his hands into the spice jar. He carefully plucks the flower, touching each of its bright petals. He walks as quietly as if a service were taking place nearby in an old wooden church. He takes his time. He knows that he will have to wait a while longer before the sun illuminates the wall that hides history. “…a scent that combines desert dunes and freedom”