I cover myself in sand and then I row my little boat in Sahara. There is a lot of mustard here. I paint myself red, then I walk the trails across this island of oil and sand.  

On this island of oil, where the sun comes up so early, where the waves so magnificent, and where it always feels like sand. It reminds me of an Egyptian beach, where the sailors were once ashore. Then one day the rumblings were heard, the sound of the sand-sands rippling across the ocean, and the men stood their ground, and the boats were washed ashore by the eddies of the sea, and the sailors brought to this island. So we see how this kind of place will be a true home for each one of us.