'I had come bearing gifts.Needless to say I was mildly concerned that the 1870 Shiraz and the Oriental silks would not take well to the weather of this arid plane - not to mention my own laptop - but they all seemed well enough upon my arrival. I was escorted efficiently to meet with their Royal House; certainly an unforgettable experience, even though they requested I take no photographs.As I was invited later to relax and explore their grounds (a lie: not grounds - sands, for that is what remained in my brand new leather loafers throughout my stay), I saw a most stunning sight.There in repose - lazily sipping the Shiraz and bathing in the harsh, burning sun - was Aranya, Princess of the Desert.So overcome with her beauty and majesty I asked in a quavering voice if I could, Highness willing, sketch her.She stared at me with those sharp, calculating eyes and after delicate consideration at last agreed with a silent nod. She watched me intensely as I sketched, as I sighed in the heat and wiped sweat from my furrowed brow. She did not smile, nor ask me questions, nor find any interest in the small talk I attempted. She simply reclined in her royal confidence and watched me.Despite the heat of the day I was chilled by her intensity and obvious intelligence, and when I was finished I wandered off in confusion and haste, not wishing to be under her shrewd scrutiny any longer.'