Desert where my story of loneliness and isolation takes place.
I awaken on the first day and last day of my life, to the realisation that I am suspended in mid air above a bottomless pit, and I am held in place by nothing but my backpack stuffed with a towel and water bottle and a bedding role attached at the bottom by a strap.
I would like to imagine that I have the strength to climb out of this hole but I am cold to the bone and cannot move to retrieve even my water bottle. My head hurts and I can feel something dripping down my neck. As I ease my throbbing head forwards I see red blood stains covering my T-shirt.
I have no dignity left. If I could exchange my position in the world with the man sitting by an oasis, I would do so without a moment's hesitation. If I wriggle to release myself, I know I will never see another sunset. Should I accept my fate and take the fall, or should I keep hoping that someone will find me before my last ounce of strength seeps into the rock around me and I drop to the bottom of this cave?
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