Atakor Awakening
"Amyas reads the ancient rock art of Atakor. When archaeologist Sofia arrives studying prehistoric Sahara, she shows her that some art creates its viewers. 'El rasm y'ayyet' (الرسم يعيّط) - The painting calls."
Atakor's rock art had watched humanity evolve. Amyas had watched the art.
"Prehistoric art survey?" Sofia proposed.
"El rasm ma yetsurveich." Art isn't surveyed. "Yetchahhed."
It's witnessed.
Her territory held paintings eight thousand years old—green Sahara, swimming cattle, gods forgotten.
"Can I photograph the sites?"
"El rasm y'aref man ysawwrou."
"Art knows who photographs it?"
"El rasm y'ayyet."
She was substantial—keeper of images, body that had posed for millennia of artists.
"How do you interpret the symbols?"
"Ma nfasserch."
"Every image needs interpretation."
"El rasm yfasser rou'hou."
Days at the sites taught her. Sofia saw paintings reveal themselves—figures emerging, meanings appearing.
"This wasn't visible yesterday."
"El rasm yeftah."
"Painting opens?"
"El rasm y'ayyet."
"Who is it calling?"
"Elli yestahel ychof."
Night brought different viewing—paintings that glowed, figures that moved, time that folded.
"Hada wach?"
"Hada el rasm el hay."
"Living painting?"
"El rasm el haqiqi."
"Amyas..."
"El rasm qalli."
"Painting told you?"
"Yqoul you're ready to be seen."
She kissed her among ancient witnesses.
"Hada..."
"El rasm el jadid."
She undressed in painted caves, her curves prehistoric and present.
"Madre de Dios," Sofia breathed.
"El rasm," Amyas said. "Ana rasm."
Sofia studied her like examining art—finding technique, appreciating form.
"Amyas," she moaned.
"Hna." She was found. "El lawha."
Amyas painted beneath her attention, pleasure exhibited.
"Dkhol," she gasped. "El maghara."
Sofia entered her cave, and understood what art meant.
"El rasm y'ayyet," Amyas cried.
"Jawbtek."
Their rhythm was painting—stroke after stroke, image emerging.
"Qrib," Amyas warned.
"M'aya." She painted into her. "El rasm y'ayyet."
They emerged together, pleasure prehistoric. Sofia held her through the viewing.
"El research?" Amyas asked.
"Transformed."
"Kifeh?"
"Art that views the viewer."
Her archaeology transformed—art as agent, paintings as persons.
"El approach?" science asked.
"El rasm y'ayyet."
Now she witnesses beside her, learning what studying missed.
"El archaeologist w el hafidat el rasm," they say.
"El rasm jab'na," Amyas smiles.
"El rasm ykhallina," Sofia adds.
Some art paints its painters.