"He is the kind of wind that blows up your skirt, throws dust in your eyes so it's hard to see, cools you when heat and effort have drained you, warms in pockets between you and a living thing, goes in circles for no apparent reason like a desert genie, disappears suddenly making it hard to breathe, stirs up what's moldering in corners full of waiting. He is the kind of air that smells best and feels kindest blowing across a quiet lake."