"Some of the insects flying had multiple pairs of wings and were biolouminescent.  They seemed very intent, flying past the outcropping and darting jaggedly off on a course, on their way to something urgent.  The sound of them, the insects, made Marathe think of playing cards in the bicycle spokes of the bicycle of a boy with legs.  Both men were silent.  This is the time of false dawns.  Venus moved east away from them.  The softest light imaginable seeped into the desert and spread into the strange tan vistas around them, something heating just below the ring of night.  His blanket of the lap was covered in burrs and small spiked seeds of some species.  The U.S.A. desert began to rustle with life of which most remained hidden.  In the American sky, the stars fluttering like banked flames above a low-resolution seepage of glow.  But none of the pinkening of genuine dawn."

— David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest (via quietbees)