i want to reveal that , the beauty of the earth , stuff like that , by writing a novel about my life in the desert , like you said , i say , floundering in the act of revealing to a perfectly strange old man the deepest aspirations of my life in such a casual fashion in a hall , passing open doors and other patrons , passing homeward and filled with deepest despair at the failure of my great projects , the failure to capture beauty for anything more than a temporary , desperate moment .