Capítulo 16: The Desert

It wasn't mud or earth that he walked on. It was a brown fuzzy surface that couldn't be distinguished from a grey sky and hazy air. The air felt neither hot nor cold, and neither could he say that breathing was easy or difficult. When Marty Smith walked in any direction he could see no shadows. The surface felt neither rough nor smooth beneath his feet, or indeed wet or dry. Water was a memory.