Ruth, you graced this expanse of sands, and it was here that our paths converged. In those days, you took the form of a black bird, a creature I sculpted from the very stones of the desert. Like the ever-shifting dunes, you moved with a constant and mesmerizing pattern, a desert woman with the ability to whisper the secrets of the sands and summon wild winds from your flowing locks, capable of lifting mountains.
You waged a relentless battle against the sun, your beauty ravishing and merciless, captivating the desert men with your enigmatic words and mysterious eyes. How could I not fall in love with you?
Your eyes, profound and mysterious, resembled pools of liquid obsidian, holding secrets within their depths. Your movements mirrored the graceful fluidity of the shifting sand dunes.
You embody the spirit of the desert—fierce, unforgiving, yet endlessly captivating.
As the wind began to pick up, swirling grains of sand into frenzied eddies, and the sun beat down with unyielding intensity, scorching the landscape, I couldn't help but think of you, my blackbird, Ruth.
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