valid camel

The sun is over our heads. There is no water in my sack, and sweat does not quench thirst. Neither I nor the child have anything but patience with the whips of the sun, the milk of an udder crowding us with dialogue, and a prophecy that a cloud gave me that will not return. Will Kuwait be a cloud that heralds what will not come? Or is it a mirage that is never contained? Or is it a star that guides us to all paths except the one that leads to it? It looks like I'm dying. When I catch her dead on the back of my she-camel, when the present woman and her son meet Sari, and my son meets whom?