Seductive Sands
The winds, they kiss my lips, the sun,
He beats me hard.
The dunes, they snigger at me....
—Kaavyaa Kriday, The Sand Dunes
The winds were hot. The sun was hot. The sand was hot. It was late morning; it was early May. It was very hot.
When you walk upon sand dunes, you make little progress. Every step is pulled back, tugged by the dunes, as if they are unwilling to let you go. The sand crawls into your shoes, trying to entice you to merge with the dunes, become a part of them. Before I had moved a hundred yards, I was tired, panting hot dry breaths. The dunes are unrelenting. And the sun beats you hard. Sand dunes are soft. Walking is hard.
I stayed only long enough to be enthralled by the enormity of their seductive beauty: sinuous curves, yes, and beguiling, subtle colors shifting like the grains beneath my feet. I walked with effort, my neck twisting to follow the shapes sweeping across the expanse. I dropped to my knees to peer through the lens, knowing my photos were feeble illusions of the powerful sand. It was very hot.