Are all female. They bray and cuss in the dust. They fall on the ground and roll in great clouds of obscurity. Here there is nothing, and it hurts the eye. The asses knock about, in pointless inscrutable games. They are obstinate and willful. This place is nothing more than a plate of dust, which they occupy as some unprovoked protest, as though their constant tramping upon it kept it from rising into the sun.
Once a year they disappear. Their oasis is heaven, where they drink the blue waters, where there is food in abundance, where a kind wind blows and nothing contests their presence, for heaven is empty, entirely empty.
The wild asses are allowed this privilege, alone. For they are the only creatures, that, given the privilege, invariably return, stubborn, unpersuaded.
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