motes of dust

A few motes of dust moved slowly past his cheek.

Philip imagined that he could hear motes of dust falling.

Our irruption into the place had set free a million motes of dust, swirling around us.

There it eddied and melted away among the motes of dust.

Above, in the lighted hole, motes of dust hung motionless.

In its flutes, which she was stroking, motes of dust gathered.

Motes of dust hung in the beams, turning over and over.

She saw motes of dust pedaling through the gloom.

Motes of dust were dancing in the air.

The movement stirred motes of dust and set them whirling faster in the sunshine.

Motes of dust had floated, trapped in their sunbeams.

Political undercurrents were as numerous and changing as motes of dust in the air.

Motes of dust hovered in the vast central cavity of the room.

Tiny golden pin-pricks, like motes of dust caught in a cathedral interior.

The motes of dust swirled around her.

The light in there was faintly golden, and heady with motes of dust, they moved as through a shimmering mist.

Honey bees droned along the cliff face like motes of dust caught in the sunlight.

The words were spoken so quietly they only just carried, hooked on motes of dust and wafted from his lips.

Sunlight filled the corridors, streaming through the high windows, motes of dust dancing in the glow.

The sun filtered down through the leaves, catching spinning motes of dust, making them dance like fairy lights.

Most of my punches were swatted away as if they were motes of dust.

He listened as words were spoken, floating through the air as motes of dust on streamers from the sun.

The room air whined around me, geometries dancing like motes of dust wet with dew.

Bright motes of dust seemed to be floating before his face, exploding like multi-colored novas.

At first, I thought the shadows of the trees and swimming motes of dust had created an illusion from a fallen branch.