Description
Inside a tent in the desert, Khan is sitting on his Kilim, a rugged sabre on his knees.
A woman serves his cardamom rice. The young man smiles, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He remembers his daring escape from the palace of the governor.
At regular times, the incense blended with the agar wood walls. The aromas diffused in the air, and mixed with the patchouli and geranium radiating from the clothes of the governor’s wife. She often watched him from a small pit in her maid’s room. Khan escaped, but he somehow misses the aromas of his luxurious prison.
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