REORIENT:

I rested my head against my stiff, coarse pillow, and ran a hand over the smooth, pink wall. The sounds outside were gradually growing dimmer, and a few stars poked their heads through the swarthy sheet of the night sky. From behind the wall came the faint sounds of a haunting melody played on an old reed flute that seemed at once so close and so far away. The sound transfixed me, and I pressed my ear to the wall, taking pleasure in its coolness against my cheek. Soon, the reed flute was all I could hear; the dulled notes had drowned out the waning chaos of the world below. I opened my door, and looked down at the tiled, idle fountain in the leafy courtyard; not a soul was to be seen, nor a voice to be heard. The warbling sound of the reed grew louder, its languid, hypnotic song enveloping me in sonorous swathes. It was as if all the beauty and horror of this wild world had been captured in those few mystifying breaths, which seemed at that moment to be not the stuff of men, but jinn. 

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