There are dunes and then there are dunes. These dunes at White Sands Missile Range feel like walking over an endless white body. Soft, blinding. Disorienting texture of minerals. As though the body has just finished sweating, and the salts are left on the surface. Evaporant. Dessicant. Extraplanetary. Or as though bones are gradually eroding, leaving a fine chalk behind. As though if you burrow down deep enough, you'll find pelvis, skull, scapula.
Overhead, the ubiquitous military aircraft and sonic booms, enigmatic explosions, air and earth shaking as though footsteps of a gigantic being who draws near. Three thousand square miles of weapons testing, and entering the range comes with warnings and welcome signs. Which one to believe?