Leaning inches away, my hands traverse the page. Soon, a lead draft of mountains are visible. A lime green stick smudges ranks of lines upward, thumbs tracing the paths. Tall olive wheat grasses glide into place watching twin mountains awake and rise to dominate the page. My pinkies gently add taupe highlights for depth. My fingers guide the grasses left and right, throwing a haze of seeds suspended in the crosswinds. Under my palm, the setting sun’s orange-red hue dips below the skyline between the mountains. My thumbs become the mirage of navy, fusia, and gold blending into the evening sky’s canvas. In a circular motion, fingertips sew together dusk and night. Finally, with a sweeping motion of the sides of my hand, opposing grey shadows fade on the twin mountains. Here lies the Middle Eastern landscape sprawling before me now for the world to see, a manifestation memories past.