Chapter Text
The sunrise over the desert in Almeria is the first one he sees.
The shooting finished in the afternoon and then the film crew partied late into the night, music and smoke filling the tiny hotel restaurant. He never made it to bed. His body has withstood much worse than cigarettes and a few glasses of raspy Spanish wine.
He sits alone on the front steps of the hotel, watching the sky turn from blue-black to blue-grey. The silhouettes of palm trees are cut out in the distance. Closer, cacti are scattered like long-lost chess pieces. Above him, the Milky Way stretches long and wide, bright stitches on the dark tapestry of the universe. He breathes in the scent of dust and wonders if, sometimes, the wind carries inland the faint tang of the sea.
Earlier, he pilfered a blanket from the back seat of the director’s car, throwing it immediately over his shoulders. He shivers, nonetheless. Damned army fatigues, either too heavy or too thin for this place. Overhead, a bird chirps a quiet morning song.
He searches for the lightest part of the horizon, the promise of dawn. The stars vanish, little dots of paint wiped out one by one. Blue softens into pink, as if the entire sky was blushing under his gaze. The scenery reminds him of Stu’s palettes, their mixture of hues, from the darkest cobalt to the faintest of lilac. Birds join into the melody of the day arising. His throat tightens and he is awash in wonder.
He blinks hard. With trembling fingers, he reaches for the small round glasses perched on his nose; the glasses that were meant for his character in the film and that have been adjusted to his eyesight. He lets himself smile at the world being reborn.
That sunrise over the desert is the first one he sees. There and then, he decides he will not lead a blurry life anymore.