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I cry Sahel dust not because i'm stingy, but because my gulch~path to not dry brook bed is too long to be contained within even 19:6 picture. You are after long time the first, who's bare shoulder sweats so much that it sticks the dust of my "tears" to itself and so together we draw a map to the water (on your pale body). Senegal art. Poets of the sadness. Poets of the scream. Poets of the despair. Mapping without GNSS.
A woman in a flowing dress sits gracefully on golden sand dunes, with soft, rolling hills in the background under a clear blue sky, capturing a serene and picturesque desert moment.
{ variations in dust (try to guess the original) }