I’ve heard that the city of Nara‑Desh was swallowed by dunes that never forget the scent of iron and incense. They say when the wind blows across the dunes it carries the murmurs of merchants who never made it home, their voices like sand slipping through glass. In the night, if you stand by the shore and whisper the name, the wind will answer with a low hum, as if the city itself is trying to be remembered. I’ve written a few lines about it, but the words always feel like they’re being dragged back into the darkness… you ever heard something like that?