That smell.

The alkali hits your senses like a freight train. It is sharp and clean. Pure. As if the ¬†Earth is gently reminding you, ‘you have entered a sacred space.’

The dust seeps into your pores. You can feel it sucking every ounce of moisture from your body. Taking over, consuming you, making you one of its children. The sensation is at once comforting and entirely alien.

The sun sets. The wind whips up a dust storm. I rush into the blinding expanse of desert. The world falls away into muffled swirls and wisps of images, people, objects. The dust has come out to play and I welcome the embrace.