I lay on the sand and watched an eagle circling overhead. I could feel it burn the soft skin on the sides of my feet. It was hot.
At midday we went on, passing high, pale-coloured dunes, and others that were golden, and in the evening we wasted an hour skirting a great mountain of red sand, probably 650 feet in height. Beyond it we travelled along a salt-flat, which formed a corridor through the Sands.
Looking back I imagined the great, red dune was a door which was slowly, silently closing behind us. I watched the narrowing gap between it and the dune on the other side of the corridor, and imagined that once it was shut we could never go back, whatever happened. The gap vanished and now I could see only a wall of sand.
from Arabian Sands, by Wilfred Thesiger