The sand giant

Big Tama, a Samoan man in his 40s, a former rugby player turned florist: 6 foot 5, huge and broad, warm smile, black hair tied in a top bun, full traditional Samoan tatau covering one arm from shoulder to wrist, wearing a white T-shirt, dark jeans, brown work boots and a sage-green canvas florist's apron with secateurs in the pocket. Walking calmly down an empty desert highway towards camera, behind him, filling the sky, a huge sharply defined 200-metre-tall figure of himself made of dense dark swirling sand, clearly his face, top bun and apron visible in the sand, mid-stride like him, the sand giant towering over the road, hot orange light, strong contrast. Big Tama breaks into a run down the desert highway and the giant sand figure behind him runs too, each footfall exploding in a dust cloud that rolls over the road; the camera flies backwards low in front of Tama, then rockets up and over him to look the sand giant in the face.