Published: March 15, 2026
The stars twinkled above an endless sea of sand dunes. In the distance, the shadowed sands seemed to merge seamlessly with the deep blue of the night sky, as if the two had become one.
A chilly breeze swept across the desert in quiet waves. I folded my arms, trying to gather a little warmth from myself. Beside me was Axel—a new friend from France who had accompanied his artist mother to attend the international art exhibition in Dubai. With quiet courtesy, he offered me his jacket.
“I’m not cold. Once we reach the bus, it’ll be warm. You should put this on now,” he said.
The Arabian Desert on the outskirts of Dubai burns beneath the sun during the day, yet cools rapidly at night. I had read about such sudden drops in temperature in my secondary school geography textbook, but this was the first time I truly experienced it.
Our bus was still some distance away.
The international artists’ tour was divided into smaller groups. Most of the artists in our group were from Middle Eastern countries; only Axel’s mother, Verone, and I had come from elsewhere. Perhaps because of that, we connected easily. Everything before us was new, and our curiosity mirrored each other’s.
So as we walked back toward the bus, we slowed our pace, as we wanted to linger a little longer in the mysterious desert.
Along the way, I noticed a man with a peregrine falcon perched on his arm. One of its feet was fastened to a thin chain that looped around his wrist. Curiosity drew me closer. After a brief exchange, the man asked me to extend my arm so that the falcon could rest on it.
A thick protective towel was strapped onto my arm to shield me from its talons. I held its weight, I sensed its breath, feeling its steady and living presence—that was my first encounter with a peregrine falcon at such close range.
When I returned it, I offered the man payment as stated on a little signboard, but he firmly refused.
“We are already closed for the day,” he said, with a broad smile spreading across his face.
Soon after, we came upon two camels resting quietly on the sand. Their long necks stood tall and still, their silhouettes calm against the night. Axel and I stepped closer and observed them carefully.
“Do you think these are the camels we rode this afternoon?” he teased.
“I guess so,” I replied with a smile.
I looked again. In the night, the camels’ eyes seemed impossibly deep, their thick lashes spreading like delicate fans.
“Look,” I said suddenly, in awe, “their eyes take up almost half their faces. Each eye is only slightly smaller than our face.”
My curiosity spilled naturally into words. The camels blinked slowly, as if they were silently observing us,—— two unexpected visitors who had intruded on their peace—— saying: “Our work is done for today.”
Standing on the dunes underneath the starry skies, I recalled our arrival earlier that afternoon. Our group’s first activity was dune bashing in a jeep. Axel, Verone, a few female Arab artists, and I climbed aboard. The driver raced across the dunes, surging up and down the dunes which glowed like golden waves.
Again and again we crested the dunes, the ride both thrilling and exhilarating. Each sudden drop brought screams of excitement; each climb was followed by bursts of laughter.
Then came the camel ride.
The sun hung low in a sky of faded cerulean, while the dunes glowed in brilliant shades of golden mandarin. A long line of visitors waited for their turn. Seven young Chinese men stood ahead of me, while Axel and Verone waited behind.
The sunlight slanted across the sand. We instinctively squinted and raised our hands slightly to shield our eyes from the dazzling brightness.
When my turn came, the camel handler finished arranging the riders ahead. Then he gestured toward me and the last young man still waiting in front of me.
“Together?” he asked.
“No, I’m with these two friends,” I said, pointing to Axel and Verone behind me.
“Oh, that won’t work. One camel can only carry two people,” he said with a smile.
So he paired me with the young man. Axel and Verone rode another camel behind us. They playfully teased me about my “new companion,” while the young man’s friends laughed and teased him as well. Sitting together on the same camel, we both felt slightly embarrassed, we were avoiding each other’s gaze while trying hard to contain our chuckles.
The camel began to move. With each steady step, we swayed gently, as if the desert itself were rocking us in a quiet lullaby.
Soon the awkwardness faded, replaced by the vast beauty before us. The golden sands shimmered under the sun, the silky dunes rising and falling endlessly toward the horizon. The sky of cerulean met the dunes of gold, and for a moment, the world seemed reduced to only two colours.
The sunlight reflected off the sand—fierce yet soft—while filling our hearts with a quiet sense of awe.
After the camel ride, our group was brought to a Bedouin-style open-air restaurant for dinner. Axel, Verone, and I shared a table with two Iranian friends, Masoud and Mariam. Masoud, a few years younger than me, had accompanied his artist sister Mariam on the trip. Masoud was strikingly good-looking, while Mariam, who was my age, was delicate and beautiful like a porcelain doll.
While waiting for dinner, I asked Axel to take a photo of me with my phone. When I looked at the picture, I noticed that the canopy of a tree in the background had “grown” above my head.
After noticing the unintentional coincidence, Axel laughed. “With your round face, you look like a pineapple.”
Masoud took the phone, looked at the photo, and said warmly, “That’s Huifong’s tiara!”
I laughed: “Yes, it’s a tiara the desert gave me. It reminds me: never bow down to cry or the tiara will fall, only lift my head high to smile.”
I looked around me—myself from Brunei, the Chinese visitors, Axel and Verone from France, Masoud and Mariam from Iran, and artists from across the Middle East—all sharing laughter in the desert.
At that moment, I felt something deeply: no matter nationality, faith, language, or culture—even across continents—people can live in harmony. It was a gift the world had given me, one I hope to share with my readers.
I remember that day clearly. We laughed with all our hearts.
It also reminded me of the previous year, 2018, when I first traveled to Dubai for the same art exhibition. My mother had accompanied me on that trip. One day we visited Bur Dubai, the city’s oldest district and birthplace.
In a small local shop, we met Adil, a young man from Afghanistan working there. As we left, he waved goodbye warmly and said softly, “Welcome to visit my beautiful Afghanistan one day.”
In that moment, I felt a sincerity that crossed borders—even if the world is imperfect, some intentions can remain pure and beautiful, like the smiles I saw on Adil’s beaming face and the smiles I later saw in the desert.
Attending international art exhibtions often brings experiences beyond art itself; human connection is what moves me most and I find it the most breathtaking landscape.
Each encounter is like a desert dune—seemingly similar in form, yet never the same. I may be as small as a grain of sand, yet I am fortunate enough to witness moments of warmth and shared humanity, like stars twinkling across an endless sea of dunes.
This world may be broken, yet there are always people quietly mending it.
With every needle and every stitch, they sew warmth back into the torn fabric of the world.
沙丘之上
发布日期：2026年3月15日
那晚星辰闪烁，一眼望去尽是无尽的沙丘。远处的沙丘已盖上一层暗淡的被子与夜空的深蓝相接，仿佛融为一色。
冷清的风一阵阵吹来，我抱着双臂，试图从自己身上取一点温暖。在我身旁的是啊瑟尔——一位陪同母亲从法国前来迪拜参加国际艺术展的新朋友。他绅士地把身上的夹克递给我。
“我不怕冷，一会儿到了巴士就不冷了。你还是披上吧。”
迪拜郊外的阿拉伯沙漠白天炽热，夜晚却骤然降温。以前念中学时，地理课本里读到过这样的描述，可这还是我第一次真正体会到。
巴士离我们还有一段路。
艺术家团另分成几个小组，和我们同一组的艺术家大多数来自中东各国，只有我和啊瑟尔的妈妈维罗恩来自别的国家。也许正因为如此，我们格外投缘——眼前的一切，对我们来说都是前所未有的体验，我们的好奇心也如此相似。
所以在走回巴士的路上，我们不约而同地放慢了脚步，只想多看一眼这片神秘的沙漠。
路上，我看见一名男士的手臂上停着一只猎鹰。猎鹰的脚扣着一条细链，链子连接到男士的手套。好奇心把我带到他们身旁。简单交谈几句后，男士让我把手臂伸出来，让游隼落在我手臂上歇息。
厚厚的护垫绑在我的手臂上，保护我不被它爪抓伤。我托着它的重量，仿佛听见它的呼吸，感受那份沉稳而真实的存在——这是我第一次如此近距离地与游隼共处。
当我把它归还给男士时，我照着卡板上写的价格要付费，但他坚决不肯收钱。
“已经打烊了。”
他说着，笑了笑。
接着，我们来到两只正在歇坐的骆驼旁。它们安静地伏在沙地上，长长的脖子笔挺着，在夜色里显得格外沉稳。啊瑟尔和我走近一些，静静地打量，细心地观察。
“你看，它们会不会是我们今天下午骑过的骆驼？”他打趣地说。
“我猜应该是。”我也笑着配合他。
我忍不住多看了几眼。骆驼的眼睛在夜色里显得格外深邃，浓密的睫毛像一把小扇子。
“你看，骆驼的眼睛几乎占了它脸的大半。”我忽然说道，“感觉它的一只眼只比我们的脸小一点而已。”
心里的那份探索与好奇，就这样自然地从口中说了出来。骆驼偶尔缓慢地眨一下眼，仿佛也在安静地打量着我们这两个不速之客，在对我们说：“我们已经下班了。”
站在夜色里的沙丘上仰望着星星点缀的夜空，我想起下午刚抵达沙漠时的情景。我们艺术团抵达沙漠的第一件事是飙沙。我与啊瑟尔和维罗恩，还有几名阿拉伯女艺术家，一同坐上一辆吉普车。司机载着我们在沙丘之间飞驰，车子时而冲上高高的沙丘，时而又俯冲而下，像是在金色的海浪之间起伏。
我们一浪一浪地越过沙丘，既刺激又好玩。车子每一次下坠，我们都会忍不住尖叫；而当车子重新冲上沙丘顶端时，又一起欢呼大笑起来。
接下来便是骑骆驼。
阳光高挂在偏西的天空，沙丘被照得金橘色几乎刺眼。大家排队等着骑上骆驼。排在我前方的是七个中国男生，排在我身后的是啊瑟尔和维罗恩。
阳光斜斜地照射，我们本能地用手微微挡住太阳，身体仿佛也在试图回避这片耀眼的光。
轮到我的时候，骆驼负责人先把前面的男生安排好，然后向剩下一名男生和我比了个手势，“Together？”（你们是一起的？）
我说：“No，我是和这俩位朋友一起的。”说着指了指身后的啊瑟尔和维罗恩。
“哦，不行，一只骆驼只能两个人骑。”负责人笑着说。
于是他安排我和前方的男生骑同一只骆驼。啊瑟尔和维罗恩在后面的骆驼上俏皮地向我们打趣，前方男生的朋友们也朝他笑着起哄。剩下我和这名男生独自坐在同一只骆驼上时，顿时觉得有些不好意思，都不敢直视对方。
骆驼缓缓起步，我们随着它稳健的步伐轻轻晃动，仿佛被整片沙漠温柔地摇晃一首摇篮曲。
尴尬的气氛很快被眼前的景色取代——金橘色的沙海在阳光下闪着微光，一直延伸到远方的地平线。沙丘连绵起伏，细沙柔滑如丝绸。轻柔淡蔚蓝的天空与金黄的沙丘在那里清晰地交汇，世界仿佛只剩下这两种颜色。
阳光从沙面反射回来，既灼烈又柔和，刺得人不得不眯起眼睛，却又让心里生出一种宁静的敬畏。
骑完骆驼后，我们艺术家团被安排到一个贝都因式的开放餐厅享用晚餐。我们与另外两名伊朗朋友同坐一桌。马苏德年纪比我小几岁，这次陪同艺术家姐姐玛丽亚姆来迪拜，一边参展一边旅行。马苏德长得非常英俊，而和我同年的玛丽亚姆则非常漂亮，像一个精致的洋娃娃。
我请啊瑟尔帮我用手机拍照。拍完以后看照片才发现，我的头上“长”出了一棵树冠。调皮的啊瑟尔笑着说，树冠配上我圆圆的脸，我变成了一颗凤梨。
旁边的马苏德接过手机看了看照片，说：“那是慧芬的冠啊！”
我笑着说：“这是沙漠替我戴上的冠。它提醒我——不许低头哭，否则冠会掉下，只许扬首笑。”
我记得我们那天笑得很开心。
我环顾四周——来自文莱的我、来自中国的游客、来自法国的啊瑟尔和维罗恩、来自伊朗的马苏德和玛丽亚姆、还有来自中东各国的女艺术家，坐在同一片沙漠里，笑声交织，彼此分享这一刻。
那一刻，我深深感受到：无论国籍、信仰、语言、文化如何不同，哪怕跨越不同国度和大洲，人都可以和睦共处。那是世界赠赐我的礼物，也是我希望能够与读者分享的世界。
我记得在前一年，也就是2018年，首次到迪拜参加同一个艺术展，那次携妈妈同行。我们抽出一天时间逛柏迪拜（Bur Dubai），迪拜最古老的街区，也是这座城市的发源地。
在一间当地店铺我们结识了来自阿富汗打工的阿迪尔。在我们离别时，他热情地向我们挥手道别，最后轻声说：“欢迎你们来美丽的阿富汗玩。”
那一刻，我感受到了一种跨越国界的诚挚与温暖——即使世界不完美，有些心意却可以纯粹而美丽。就像我在阿迪尔脸上看到的笑容，也像后来在沙漠里看到的笑容一样。
往往参加跨国艺术展的体验不仅停留在艺术本身，人文交流才是最让我感动的风景。每一次经历如同沙漠的沙丘，表面相似，却从不重复。我本渺小如沙尘，却能见证人心温暖与相惜的片刻，就像沙漠星辰，在无尽沙海间闪烁。
世界或许破破烂烂，但总有人在缝补它。一针一线，把温柔缝进人间。
