Valle del Elqui, Coquimbo I walked alone. Nothing stirred but the dust under my feet and the cactus flowers fluttering amid the spines in the hot wind. The path climbed higher and higher into the hillside until the town shrank before me in the valley below… little houses, little cars, little roads. Somewhere amongst them, my invalid wife sat in the observatory kitchen, making tea, filling forms. A voice spoke clearly behind me. I turned around to meet a man from the Bible. His arms were outstretched as if to hug me, but he could not. His head was bleeding and his robe blew open. I pressed on in the dry heat. More cacti, more dust. The course of an ancient river, now barren and sad, snaking its way through the desert. From the summit I looked down upon vultures and a condor silently wheeling in the thermals. Giant birds with simple wishes, spiralling ever upwards. At the observatory, later that night, I dreamt of the Bible man’s beard, shaped into a cave. Inside I found perfect fossils of myself protruding from the rocks. I ran my fingers over the indentations and sneezed.