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The dust has hardly settled from yesterday's dust storm, 'loo' they call it in these parts. The leaves of the trees are covered in fine brown powder, the ones that haven't withered from the heat. It feels like an oven, a crematorium, an incinerator. My mind is muddled, from the heat, or from the dust, I cannot tell. It has been this way for months, so I conclude it is because of neither. I am on my way to the reservations center, even the one closest to my home is a hundred miles away. I have been been walking for two days, no buses or trains go to the reservations center.

My mind is clear, clear with the clarity of purpose. My feet hardly ache, I think it is because of superior quality footwear. I have hardly felt the ground beneath me during my walk. But now my feet, like the leaves are covered in dust. It's good, it stops the bleeding.

I seem to be going around in circles, the circumeference of the circle increases every hour. I think I have walked 2000 miles since yesterday, but the reservations office is still elusive. The map says it should be right where I am standing now, I should be staring at a grey building with pink windows and bright green doors. I should be able to see soldiers in white uniforms, sheparding the crowds towards the big blue main door. The map says so, the reservations office is located at the 54th radius of the 48th circumeference.

I am worried now. If I pass this circle, I may never be able to to trace my way back. I have to fight for my son's reservation. He has been wronged and only the white men in black coats at the reservations office can do anything about it. If I pass this circle, I have to go back empty handed. I have to meet the men in the whit coats and ask them to help my son.