The ground intrigued me from the moment the dust began to wash over our windshield. The earth was concrete-hard, and cracked, with fine ridges and grooves. And from where it was scored, fine dust rose up in white clouds and blanketed everything in sight. There was no escaping the dust. My cell phone (now a useless weight of plastic) was folded into my notebook and kept in a pillowcase in my tent... and by the end of the week, I was blowing dust off of it as thought it were a relic from Indiana Jones.
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