Comparatively, it was like snow.
Putting a foot down in the dust, it left a footprint as clear as though stepping through a thin layer of snow. It would stay there, without moving, step after step, the absolute nothingness of the surroundings changing nothing.
Reaching down and scraping the surface of the ground did the same. Through gloves, there was no possible way of feeling it. Unlike snow, there was no way of knowing it was cold simply by touch. One would have to make the assumption and continue under that manner.
No one would take off gloves here.
Dust didn’t make for a good building block. This dust couldn’t make a figure.
This dust would remain though, long after the snow had melted in whatever part of the planet it had fallen.
The dust wasn’t snow, but the footprints were the same.