The barren emptiness of the desert is devoid of sentiment. There is no poetry in the dried up surface, no melancholy stirred up by the gusts of fine sand. On a beach or in a forest, in a green field or in an architectural wonder of a city, one is overwhelmed by the beauty of the environment, the lyricism of associations and memories. But in the sudden vacuum of a desert whiteout there is only isolation.
As the sun is blocked out by the dust and the horizon is swept away, the first anxious moment of helplessness metamorphoses into a feeling of unbounded freedom. In this vast, disorienting silence, one is left entirely to the immediacy of the experience.
It is rare to find a space lacking the external noise of over-stimulation. But it is necessary in order to hear oneself better. The isolation of the whiteout brings introspection and resets the senses. The sterility of the desert becomes an oasis.