Today I woke up earlier than I usually do on weekends and went to the central park of my city. I had arranged to meet an acquaintance to pick up a guidebook I had bought. I hadn't been in this park for a long time. It was refreshing. I walked along my old route, and as expected, some memories came back to me. I looked around for changes, but everything seemed the same: the same unpainted building on the corner, a house-turned-bookstore full of shelves, and the same chilly wind. It was midday on a sunny day, so I waited/lingered/sat/stood under the shade of a tree for quite a while. The wind, as always, reminded me of my beloved “desert” city, a place of contradiction, where the heat scorches and the cold bites.