wilderness of discarded carpets. The carpets were layered in drifts, their

colours clashing, and their patterns hectic. The horizon swam and shimmered, but Kyp could just make out the dark smudge of a distant city. He set out towards it. Gritty gusts blew across the hummocks of piled carpets, the wind reeking of cat pee and propelling tumbleweeds of dog hair across the dunes. The ground felt oddly coarse beneath Kyp’s feet; looking down, he saw to his disgust that the carpets were crunchy with toenail clippings and jumping with fleas.