I limped miles, leaning on a stick, through heart-stopping heat to get this drawing. The local bus refused to take me; it was Ramadan, and he was tired. Then he passed me on the road and refused to stop. This ruined city is on a steep hill. When I climbed panting to the gate, I told the guard there of the bus driver’s rudeness. He called and reported it, and gave me a pass through the gate. The heat was so thick you could chew it, and the cicadas sounded like a chorus of gasping crows. When it was time to leave, I had a free trip all the way to the ruined tombs at the end of the road.