The edges of the long vanishing stretch of tarmac are obscured by great swaths of sand, merging it with the desert on either side. Gusts of wind blow lacey waves across our path, dust dancing lightly on the surface, continually in motion, never settling to cover the road.
A nine year old boy behind the wheel of a big old Buick, not on his father’s knee this time but driving his mother to some unknown destination.
The low cresent moon does little to light the luna-esc terrain of its own image. The headlights search for tracks that were prominent during the day but the powerful modern lanterns struggle to penetrate the vastness. Rocks and mountains are all but part of the sky, their only distinction that they are not dotted with stars.
After hours of sleepy desert darkness, real darkness, the orange glow of Jeddah starts to light the horizon and in an instant the magical spell of the desert is broken. Hours, days, weeks and years separate once more and life resumes.
Occasionally Architectural 
dawnpiper
October 25, 2010
Good piece of writing . Is this the beginning of a story perhaps?
Trevor Taw
October 28, 2010
Thanks. It’s more of an excerpt but, yes. Lots of fragmented journal and notes from Saudi that I need to delve into at some point, but for now a stand alone piece.
NJArtitecture
November 7, 2010
This is beautiful 🙂 I especially love the line “Rocks and mountains are all but part of the sky, their only distinction that they are not dotted with stars.”