This simple absence of light is a natural wealth far exceeding that of gold and silver.
The ancient tamarisk gently lays its sable mantle of balm across the baking sand.
Within the blink of an eye a bird appears and gives voice within this oasis of cool darkness.
It is a paean of joy to the blessed relief of shadow.
The flowing barchan and rippling seif are places of sharp contrast and unforgiving beauty.
For them there is no middle way.
Desiccating white heat or bone cracking cold, blinding light or Stygian dark and withering drought or tumultuous flood. These are the ways of the Erg.
Our Sapient kind are strangers here, fleeting nomads wandering along the edge of life itself.
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Photo courtesy of the author.