I met my wife in the red desert on a white day in the middle of a summer
We were sheltering under some rocks away from the direct heat of the sun
Je m’appelle Caron
She said to me in a hushed voice
I asked her what she was doing in the desert
She did not answer and stared at the distant mirages that were distorting our day
When she spoke to me again it was in my native tongue
I often look at mirages in the desert and travel towards them
But when I arrive I find that the landscape is quite still
This is a great mystery to me
Later as the sun grew heavy we prepared to go our separate ways
But we found that we could not break apart
Les mirages sont faux
She whispered as we walked towards my jeep
This was the last time that she spoke in French