We drifted upward so subtly, so stealthily, that when next we peered over the edge of the basket, crew members were simply Morse code dashes. Gemsbok were bleached pebbles and ostriches were beetles throwing whisker-thin shadows. Beneath us was a world reduced to colours and texture: cones, wavy spines, circles, lines, all in shades of cocoa, sienna and mustard. Ahead, the russet dunefields were defined by edges sharp as paper folds.
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