Sand, sand, and sand as far as the eye could see. The softest kind of sand-the type where you can only walk with bare feet, feeling the sand between your toes as your foot sinks into the sand with every step. I stood, digging my right foot into the sand, and then carrying out carefully as to not spill the sand on it. Then I kicked the sand into the air. It flew into the gentle breeze, disappearing amongst its own kind. Great mounds of nothing but sand, dunes, they call it, sand at the core, and sand at the outside. A great man with softness at the heart and softness on the outside. Each grain, having its own place, graciously giving way to any other force, like the footsteps-my footsteps, only mine, the rest of the space lay undisturbed, in deep hibernation. The sun was at the exact right angle-low in the sky, shining on the mounds, which glowed golden in rays. What unity they combined to be, seeming to be one, but each gleaming in its own individuality.



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