I walk automatically towards the cross, feeling the restrained power of your will. You speak. Without inflection. "I'm going to hurt you." I inhale ...harply and close my eyes. A deep calm envelops me. Your voice justifies the thoughts and memories which I am allowing myself to replay in the theatre of my mind. I think of a fragment of our poem: "We take the golden road to Samarkand". The golden road. My journey. You: my guide. I mount the platform on which the cross stands. The wooden surface. My feet squish into the mud below me a few times. I can hear the sounds of lots of birds too. At least, I think they're birds.I reach the Frisbee and pull it out of the mud. I turn to throw it and stop. Looking forward, I just see more trees. I look left and right. I don't see the resort."MMAARRKK?!?", I call out. I can't hear him answer over the sounds of the birds.I start looking around frantically. "MARK!?"My heart is racing. "MARK!?"I begin to walk in the direction I thought I came. More

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