After weeks in the desert, following trade routes worn smooth by countless caravans before us, I finally see it rising from the date palms - the golden walls that announce the end of my journey.

My camels sense it too, their pace quickening toward the promise of water and shade. The sun has been merciless, the path uncertain, but these fortress walls call across the valley:

You have arrived. You are safe.

As we draw closer, the fort comes into focus. Each level rises like steps toward the sky, each wall perfectly aligned - this is no hastily built shelter. The careful stonework, the stepped battlements, the elegant alcove - they speak a language every trader knows: here is civilization, here is prosperity.

I have carried frankincense from the southern mountains, pearls from the gulf waters, and news from distant ports. My pouches hold letters for merchants I've never met, spices for tables I'll never see. But these walls - they announce that every mile was worth crossing.

The golden stone seems to glow in the desert light, welcoming me into the shade beyond. I hear water flowing, voices calling in familiar tongues, the sound of commerce and community.

These walls frame not just protection, but the promise that here, at this crossroads of continents, a traveller's burden becomes a merchant's fortune.

Wasalnā bi-salamatin, Alhamdulillah. We have arrived safely, praise be to God.