WHITEOUT

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.