Vast stretches of dun landscape, then distant crinkled mountains. Tumbling rectangles of farmland; geometric parcels interrupted fitfully by the sprawl of towns or cities. Thousands of miles of rugged plain, empty but for spears of road - confident and precise, like the lines of a blueprint.
Silvery-looking watering holes with haloes of tree. More rarely, the mighty eruption of a river cracking through the red/brown flats like human veins or handwriting - all squiggles and curls. On the horizon, sand dunes look like looming hilltops, and there’s a feeling not unlike first seeing America from the air, or watching an ocean rally its waves.
This planet’s bloody massive and our brains do not scale at all.
