Through swaying glass panes of the large windows across the room, I can see the swirling dust partake in an intricate dance with the mysterious wind -- a tango that only the night is supposed to witness. With another blast I become an unwilling participant in the dance, joining in the moves without an invitation. Dust fills my eyes and ears, my hair is ruffled by the wind, I breathe in the air and the dust -- sweet suffocation. In vain I try to catch the wind, the sand and the night. All three slip teasingly through my fingers. I am just an intruder.