I remember the first time I saw a camel up close, it was a moment that left a deep impression on me. The sun was just rising over the horizon, casting a soft light over the arid landscape that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was something almost mystical about the way the camel stood still, gazing into the distance, as if it knew secrets that we could not even imagine.
I approached cautiously, afraid to disturb its tranquility. Its size surprised me, much more imposing than I had expected, yet there was a serenity in its stance that invited me closer. Its rough skin and high head made it look like a guardian of the desert, someone who had seen time pass without being disturbed. I watched as its long, curved neck moved slowly, turning its head toward me, as if assessing my presence, but without fear—just curiosity.
In the distance, a truck moved along, but the camel paid no attention. At that moment, I realized how distant it was from our pace of life. While we race against time, this animal stood firm, almost in communion with the earth, the desert, with life itself.
This encounter wasn’t just with a camel, but with a way of life that taught me the importance of patience, of stillness in the midst of a world that never stops moving.
