Surrounded by sand and spikes an oasis draws us into the black pit.
Inside, a mystic floats cross-leg in the middle of the room meditating on the Wheel of Law.
With a wave, bottled colours appear in a circle around him. We lift our legs and hang in the air with The Mystic, drinking potions.
“The Alchemist has a gift for you.” And for hours we laugh at his efforts to turn wood into gold, thrilling him with our attention to his spell.
Music grows from the colors bursting in our arms and certain wise men gather on carpets and cushions, applauding when our time has come to an end– returning their hands to smoking spice.
The Alchemist invites us to his castle and we marvel at his laboratories as the wax cools; slumbering near the moon, the sun rouses us and we crawl to the North Clouds.