Trip 2015-16. Day 167. Santa's house

That morning the sand storm brought Santa. The one I’ve seen in foreign books - in a red suit with long white beard.
- I didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier on. I just would like to wish you a happy Christmas, - he said.
- Thank you, - I didn’t know what I was supposed to answer.
- How are you? Where are you from?
- The desert.
- Oh, I heard it’s a beautiful place. Mrs. Claus was telling me the other day that it’s all sand there. Is it?
- It is.
- You see, all we see really is snow. It’s all white over there.
- All we see here is sun, - I said laughing.
- I wouldn't like sun, I would melt in the sun. Now, I’ve heard you’ve been very very good.
- Really?
- Yes, so what would you like for Christmas?
- I’d like to see the world.
- Oh, that’s great.
- Can I stay, Santa, in your house?
- I have to ask Ms. Clause first. And you’ll have to share the room with loads of elves. Do you like elves?
- I think, I do. And I want to see the snow.
- Oh, that’s easy. But now I have to go back to the North Pole and I’ll be waiting for you there.

We don’t have Christmas at all and especially in the middle of August. No magic, only the burning heat of the desert, dry streams and a cold moon. I kept on walking struggling through the hot wind, I followed the white sun.

Santa's house
Santa's house