A deep fog descended on the desert this morning, transforming the humdrum drive to work into an oddly silent period of peering through thick, patchy and frequently impenetrable banks of white; the occasional car looming into view out of the miasma, hazard lights flashing.
The short run through the sand in the fog is a gamble: if there's anyone stuck in your path you'd likely be fast following them, with visibility down to about four or five metres and decision making time cut to zero. The need to maintain momentum makes it hard to pick your way through the sandy humps as gingerly as you'd perhaps like.
And then the run through the sands around Khawaneej, lighter fog here for some reason (it obviously fogs less in Dubai than Sharjah for the same reason that it floods less and smells less. Because Dubai is, well, just better. No?) and then the smell of woodsmoke carried on the still air and, I swear it, the smell of camels. There are so many camel camps around, you can actually smell them. And it's an oddly comforting, warm smell on this cool, silent, tranquil and misty morning.