The desert Dunhuang Station is a long, sand-colored parallelepiped composed of large square blocks, some decorated with kitsch reliefs of dancing apsaras. In front of the empty square, the morning sun, already high despite it being only six o’clock, warms the scorched earth and a few solitary eucalyptus trees. Inevitably tired and confused after eleven hours on the train, we breathe in the hot, dusty border air through the lowered windows of the taxi.

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