When the charges went off, the desert lifted as one body. Sand became my material, gravity, my collaborator. Out of the blast, the desert lifted like a spirit. Kilometers of fuse and powder under this desert. Tens of thousands of charges sitting in the sand, waiting for their one moment. When they fire together, they go. I expect fireworks to color the sky. I want his hand to move the ground itself. When the first charge fired, the desert lifted. For a breath, the sand forgot gravity and built something of his. Out in the Sahara, I buried kilometers of fireworks beneath the dunes. When they all went off at once, three, two, one, on. Ready? Finish it.