The new home reaches skyward like a vine, fed by billions of gallons of imported water. Dubai has sprouted, over years of cultivation, in the middle of the desert; on the side of an ocean that we fill with foreign sand. In the land of afar, everything comes from afar. People, companies, hotels, malls, movies--we are the all consuming expats, re-sculpting places in our memories with sand and water. Everything is filtered through a Middle Eastern mesh and the result is something new--something not-quite-right--something better-than-before. The English, Australian, Indian, Filipino, and American masses are young and wide-eyed. It is all new, we are all new. We are children building a playground. The striations of color are apparent, and not limited to the dunes and bulging boulders of the Badia.
In a room, in a building, in a sandcastle, we write. We feed the industry that feeds us in an endless loop.
In a room, in a building, in a sandcastle, we write. We feed the industry that feeds us in an endless loop.
