Adventures in Persia - To India by the Back Door

"By the Holy Imam, Agha," he said, "you feringhis are stange people. My brother who lives in Isfahan owns an old ambar, a barn. It is very old and in ancient times it was part of a caravanserai. In proof of its age it had a stone over the big doorway with an inscription, but it was written in some ancient script which none could read. One day, a feringhi, an Amerikani, came to my brother and offered to buy the stone with the inscription. But my borither would not sell the stone, though he was willing to sell the whole barn. They argued for a long time and finally agreed a price, and the Amerikani bought the whole barn. Then he got a mason and removed the stone. "This is all I want", he said, "You can keep the barn!"
Wah ! Wah! came a murmur from the crowd. "Truly the feringhi was afflicted," concluded the old man, "for what could he do with one single stone without the barn? And what can you do, Agha, with a zinposh [une selle en tissu de kilim] without a donkey?"

« I remerbered Abdul's warning about deserts that engulfed people. Perhaps he knew more than I had given him credit for. Perhaps there were such things... Perhaps this was one of them... Nonsense. Keep your head ! I kept telling myself. Take it easy ! There's no need to panic. Of course there's a way out, only you haven't hit on it yet... there's damn well got to be, I thought, but what the hell is it ?
Once more I scanned my surroundings. Emptiness – complete emptiness. I could see no horizon. I could not discern where earth and sky began. I could see only the dancing heat-waves and the quivering mirage. I had a splitting headache. God, how it ached. Could it be heat-stroke ? Keep calm, I kept telling myself.
I lay down beside the car, and drew the heavy tarpaulin over my head and body to get what shade I could. I shut my eyes tightly to ease the throbbing in my head and tried to reason things out calmly. » (p. 199)