Just back: in the calm of the desert Tiny lights appeared, mirage-like, in the distance. We entered a Berber camp, a circle of candlelit tents. In the centre a table was laid and Ibrahim appeared, in the vibrant blue robes of a nomad. We had no common language but shared an unforgettable evening. Mint tea was ceremoniously poured, our hands washed, a steaming, lidded pot brought to the table. We had feared camel's head and sheep's eyes but discovered a delicious tagine and a bottle of iced water. The nomads indicated our tent, then showed that we could, instead, sleep under the stars. Mattresses were made up with crisp white sheets and we lay back to watch the night sky. An occasional wisp of wind blew, and we awoke at 5am under a soft dusting of sand. In the morning light we found an enormous dune looming over our camp and we climbed higher to watch the sunrise. The beauty and the peace to be found in the desert were immeasurable. The sand gently rounded in dips and dunes, but had an occasional razor-sharp edge to a ridge that belied belief. In the frenzy of Fez we had wondered why the people had not moved forward from their ancient lifestyle; here we understood why these honourable, gentle nomads would never wish to change. We felt at peace. On gently swaying camels we made our unhurried journey back to the steps of the fort, savouring every second. As we rode in, breakfast was being served on the terrace. Hassan melted back into the desert, waving away our thanks: "No problem." We dived into the pool and rinsed the sand from our skin. Modern luxuries are not so bad after all, but we shall never forget the simple unchanging world that we found in the Sahara. Email your entry of no more than 500 words (with the text in the email itself rather than attached) to justback@telegraph.co.uk by midnight on Wednesday, February 15.