Slow Across the Dune

A dune does not hurry, and at dawn neither should you. The ripples in the sand are the wind's handwriting from the night before; the only thing that has crossed them is my own shadow, kept out of the frame.

Waiting at the ridge

The guide walked me up in the dark. I lay flat, let the lens rest on the sand and waited for the light to reach the far crest.

The first ten minutes after sunrise are the whole day for a dune: before that it is grey, after that it is white. The ripples exist for exactly as long as the shadows do.

Sand in the camera, sand in the lens, sand in the film back. The pictures are clean. That is the trade.