The Jaisalmer fort is one of the few still inhabited. About three thousand people live inside. The sandstone is the same colour as the desert it sits on, and at sundown the whole thing turns gold. We walked up through the four gates as the lanes lit up. Cows have right of way.

The merchant havelis at Jaisalmer have jali screens that turn the noon sun into lacework on the floor. The custodian at Patwon-ki-Haveli told us five brothers built it over fifty years, each trying to outdo the others. He pointed out their initials in the carvings, like a family argument in stone.

Sam dunes are 45 km out of town. The desert proper starts there. The camel ride is short and most of the dune crowd has gone home by sundown. We stayed for the wind that picks up after the sun, which carries the sand across the ridges in lines like calligraphy.

The desert tents at Sam are pitched in a small horseshoe and the dinner runs late around the bonfire. Folk musicians, a Kalbelia dancer, the food served on copper. The lights go off around eleven. The Milky Way is straight overhead in November, with no moon, and you can read it like a road.