Evolution and science: To dawn in the Sahara

I do not like very much the style of Théodore Monod, recharged and where it is easy to get lost covering his endless phrases. Nevertheless, sometimes it surprises in his description of seemingly simple phenomena, like the transition between the night of the desert, where he confesses to have spent an atrocious cold, until the hours of day trip under the unbearable Sun which light at least allows them to open the eyes. There says Monod (good, it is me who says in a very free translation):

It dawns and there are seen light clouds that float in the horizon on the gray sand. Towards the east suddenly there opens a brilliant charm of light purple and gold. Appeared the Sun, the world changes in a holiday of colors and of light. On the foot of the dune we get drunk in the warm irradiations, in the fire of the air sobrecalentado that flutters in the distance in the false horizon of a mirage. "Praised be a Gentleman for our brother the Sun" that fills our clarity eyes and it stuns us in a sensation of strange mysticism.
But the idyll does not last, the kiss turns bite and the caress burns. The Sun is already neither the calm friend nor the indulgent divinity of a few minutes ago. Now he is the enemy, the cruel and implacable god of the thirst, which fills with blisters the meat, which suspends a mortal threat on our heads. It is the one that dries the gullets off, it cracks the lips, leaves the aching eyes and does the unbearable soil for the feet. It is the one that bothers the grounds dead of the desert and the one that, under the dome of a discolored sky, spills a fire with his vertical beams.

Meharées, of Théodore Monod, 1937.
Cost the previous text, which it had in the dressing room for time, to put a few photos of my Moroccan memories.