On a small piece of deserted land south of Swakopmund, precisely where the crisp, cold, salty Atlantic Ocean provocatively licks at the golden dunes of the Namib Desert and in a gesture of mock chivalry lays a detritus of empty shells, dead kelp and lifeless jellyfish like a sacrifice upon the golden hems of her sandy shores and beaches, standing precisely here, one is forced to acknowledge the enormous power and persistence of Nature, and simultaneously, the insignificance of one's existence in a primeval process that supposedly started at the birth of our universe, and since then, relentlessly, tirelessly, compulsively continues along a predetermined yet unpredictable trajectory. As the afternoon progresses and the Earth imperceptibly turns on its axis away from the Big Fire Star, temperatures drop along the Namibian coast and quite sharply. The dunes of the Namib Desert blush an alluring pink, surreal to the eye, contrasting sharply with a perfectly cloudless backg