The desert is voiceless. There‘s a little breeze seeping through a gap in the dunes, the softest whisper of the wind so light the sand barely moves. It‘s overcast; the sun is hiding behind a thick blanket of pale clouds. The heat is already rising. It‘s not the scorching inferno of midday yet, but it‘s building up, engulfing the desolate golden dunes, slowly gliding across the hard packed sand, breaking out in tiny beads of sweat on my forehead, coating my neck and back. A lonely tuft of grass lost in the bright golden sand shivers ever so slightly in the weightless breeze. The earth is warm. Sitting down, I dig my hand into the sand. The tiniest grains are pale yellow, red, pink and white. The sand feels rough and gritty in my fingers. The heat sticks to my eyelids. There are small...
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