Seemingly it was a plain, with an illimitable view downhill to the east, where one gentle level after another slowly modulated into a distance only to be called distance because it was a softer blue, and more hazy.
The rising sun flooded this falling plain with a perfect level of light, throwing up long shadows of almost imperceptible ridges, and the whole life and play of a complicated ground system – but a transient one; for as we looked at it, the shadows drew in towards the dawn, quivered a last moment behind their mother-banks, and went out as though at a common signal.
Full morning had begun: the river of sunlight, sickeningly in the full face of us moving creatures, poured impartially on every stone of the desert over which we had to go.
All men dream but not equally.
T E LAWRENCE 1920