He turned off the lights and sat in the darkest corner of the room, laptop in hand. He plugged his headphones in and took a final glance at his phone before commencing his ritual. The first notes of Lateralus completed his cocoon, cutting him off from the world. All that existed in his universe was the empty screen staring at him and the haunting tune of the electric guitar. He lay his fingers on the keyboard, closed his eyes, took a breath and opened them again.
The sand crunched in protest under his feet as he walked. The sun beat cruelly on his brow, calling forth new beads of sweat to replace those rolling down his cheeks and into his shirt. The dry wind smothered his clean shaved face with a veritable tempest of dust and sand that precipitated on the sweat, serving to dull and age the man’s visage.