This is the story of Mahmoud Zand Moghadam who has now transformed himself into a Baluch nomad; his ears, senses, flesh, bones, and clouded mind, all bear the marks of the suffering of this unfortunate people. His existence, wounded and battered by the battles of fate, has withdrawn into solitude to such an extent that it seems he himself is a Baluch, brought to life by the wrath of existence. A man harmed by the scarcity of bread in the course of life's hardships, and his share drawn from the sand-filled tea cup in the deserts of Baluchistan.