This short story, by Graham Thomas, is taken from 'Various Sorrows & Joys', a collection of short stories and poetry by Graham and Luke Searle
The dreamless man awoke as the aeroplane banked into its descent, the aching groan of the engines a caressing alarm. Sharp, foreign light cut through the cabin in parallax to the roll of the plane. It was severe and unexpected. He turned his head to look out of the almond window and saw below him a strange city. He was immediately struck with the colour - terracotta. Roof and brick, all terracotta. A dry canal that was once a boiling river scarred through city. The long dead river was a contrasting mirror to that in his own city. The bisecting river in his home had churned dark through the slate metropolis for ten thousand years. It was the lifeblood of his home, all those years and miles behind.
He gazed into the future. He thought of a thousand years hence when he would be older than Methuselah but still with keen senses. He imagined his city to be as that of the dry terracotta city he was now gliding over. Would Gabriella still be with him when his back was bent and his beard tripped his feet? He thought of a future without her. The grinding of the landing gear hatching from their white underwing eggs caused his jaw to clench. He closed his eyes and thought of a future without Gabriella but it did not seem possible. Now that she had appeared to him six months prior and built a city of her own inside him, how could he live until one thousand without having another dream? A city of dream. A city called Gabriella. There would be no future without her. The aeroplane began its final approach and he could already feel the red heat of the foreign land upon him.
