Nathaniel Missildine, “Road to Spontaneity”

Entering the White Sands dunes was like gaining admission to the moon. The blank hills were snowdrifts that had spurned their physical compliance with the scorching sun and remained unmelted. The road cut through them, blown with powdery sand that covered the asphalt, obscuring the road’s shoulder. This mattered very little though since, at all turns, there was nothing to crash into but soft white. We were now driving in a natural, oversized sandbox.