He tucked the purse under his arm and went out. He had awakened shortly before dawn and stammered out his arcane incantations first thing. Then he had slipped into a corner of the entryway, where he poked his head into his kit, pulling out the scary satchel ornamented with talismans of the ancients. From this he removed two scoops of suspicious-looking, powdered herbs and then dumped them into a smaller, leather purse, which he tucked into his flowing sleeve, also embroidered with cryptic traceries. The purse bounced around the thin garment’s empty spaces. So he secured it under his arm and went out.
With deliberate but haughty steps he crossed the open space between the fields and the mountain. When he reached the irrigation ditches fed by the heavenly spring, the scent of the earth and its vegetation and puffs of humid air assailed him. He took a deep breath. Then a string in the Unknown vibrated and a tear burst from his eye. He crossed the irrigation ditches with wide strides that mimicked a lunatic’s leaps, penetrated the palm groves, and stopped by the spring.
The water was calm and the stillness surrounding it universal. The grasshoppers, exhausted from chirring all night long, had ceased, the dove had not risen yet, and the masters of the earth, blissfully united with their wives, had delayed their departure for the fields. The only remaining witnesses over the physical world were the crests of the sand dunes that served as a messenger from the vast desert, which was preparing – in the fullness of time – to swallow this insignificant tract of land, so that it could become an eternal bit of the enormous emptiness. Removing his sandals, he walked barefoot toward the spits of sand adjacent to the spring. Removing his garment, he knelt on the bank of the pool, reached out, and thrust his hand deep into the water, which was as warm, soft, and delightful as a beautiful woman. Before he knew it he had closed his eyes and released an intoxicated moan. He asked himself what need there was for beautiful women when water was at hand.
He did not worry about trying to answer his question but hopped up and leapt into the water. He waded a few steps beside the bank, playing in the water with both hands at times and dousing his body with splashes of water at others. He dawdled and frolicked like a child before he told himself out loud: “The fact is that only a desert lover can grasp the true nature of water.” He walked out to where it was deeper before immersing himself. The whole spring-fed pool was convulsed and flooded the banks and the nearby sand spits.
Although he lingered for a long time in the beloved’s embrace, once he emerged he immediately withdrew the leather purse from the sleeve of his garment. With the composure of a zealot, he loosened the fastener and then eyed the mysterious herb’s particles, which were interspersed with yellow-colored florets. He approached the revered spring to scatter over its depths the malignant contraceptive powder. Shortly after sunrise he returned by the same route, but no sooner had he left the grove’s thick vegetation and crossed the irrigation ditch than the fool jumped out at him from behind a pomegranate bush.