The Man With No Name Once walked Into An Empty Saloon, Squinting His Eyes As Usual.
The roads were empty. These roads weren’t the conventional Thar roads you see in today’s world, these roads were made of mud. When it rained, parts of these roads got slushy, but there was no rain, there was only sun. It was a hot summer afternoon, there weren’t any trees around, the place looked bare, the ground was cracked from constant exposure to heat. It was surprisingly windy, the place was deserted, the flow of wind could be heard, the wind was so hot you could feel the sand stick to your face. All you could see along these roads from top of the cliff was a saloon and an empty horse stable. The place was deserted, it lacked people, plantations and animals. Hyenas sometimes passed through this supposed sub desert, bones of bulls and other herbivores lay here and there, all exposed, no flesh, no skin, all consumed whole by erosion and time. Clouds were a rare phenomenon, and when clouds did appear they would disappear instantly. This place had forgotten what the very anticipation ...