westerners are scared to visit , every encounter with locals has brought friendly welcoming smiles and connection .
It ’ s time to leave the dune and I wander down again , my shoes filling with fine sand . The young woman and her companions are leaving too . They pile into their vehicle and the engine roars . The wheels spin , sand spraying backwards in a fine arc . The car doesn ’ t move . Another roar as the wheels spin more frenetically , digging themselves deeper into the sand .
Everyone gets out and the men start to dig futilely with their hands .
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