She sees a trail of ants, colored a fiery scarlet, march in a fluid line like a squadron of rigid cadets.
These miniscule creatures go uninhibited by the loose sand as it continues to ripple and almost sway under their hooked claws.
The sulfur-yellow sun, resentful of life soaks the land with its malice.
She hears the distant calls of the highway as the outcries fluctuate with each passing vehicle.
A motorized machine hisses as it passes, beginning like a bellowing roar but dissipates into a faint rumble.
She smells the arid, scanty scrub-bushes emit a scent flamed and fried.
An unhealthy fume of burning sand, as stuffy as old car exhausts, rise up like a fog and oscillate just below her nose.
The gaseous emanations circle her, encasing her into the landscape.
She tastes the staggering bitterness of her growing thirst as the sharp taste of defeat craws in her throat.
She feels the relentless assaults of the sun’s spears pierce her drying skin as bursts of heat release at first contact.
The smooth, velvet of the still fencing provide her little to no shelter from the hostile sun that hangs overhead.
She imagines soaring the clear sky, while encased in a solid, gleaming glider as the sun rays kiss the surface of her skin through the glass dome, coating her in a blanket of soothing warmth. 
The sweet musk of her companion lulls her into complete content as she watches him delicately steer them over the expanse of desert, feeling like a single trail of dust at the mercy of the flowing wind.