Other sand,dust and beings breeze through the streets, museums and monuments that once saw our feet. And how we have no framed memory with us in it, but a few ones (without us) on the 2GB memory chip of the 8MP camera, typifying the place and nothing really more. And how we weren't those darling tourists, scampering about lawns, vantage points and impulsively coordinated places, trying or getting that perfect shot of themselves or others of theirs, knitting a memory woven into all that was not theirs. We still aren't. Doesn't matter, really. Just thought I'd write it down.