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“Every man, every woman, carries in heart and mind the image of the ideal place, the right place, the one true home, known or unknown, actual or visionary.” -Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire
We make the cabin our true home for the night, supplementing dinner with what we’ve brought to share – salad, sauce, drinks, conversation, perspectives, music, connections, and paths. In darkness we find ourselves lying in the field watching the light parade of stars, jetliners, and cigarettes before we scatter for bed.
Sunrise brings another golden hour, a quick breakfast, and multiple last looks at the field before our ride arrives on schedule but all-too-early at 11am. Returning to our cars in Quemado, we exchange contact information and best wishes for easing back into civilization – New York, LA, Santa Fe, our crowded ports of reentry. As my friend and I drive back through The Narrows toward I-40, we pass the gravel shoulder where we stopped for lunch yesterday. It feels like a week ago.
“And then you have to leave.” -Geoff Dyer, The New Yorker
To Corey, Dave, Mary Katherine, McClean, Jessi. The Lightning Field 5/24/17-5/25/17. Word.