no tan lines in the desert

I had a hard month and all I needed was some space.

And some sun, and a body of water to lay in.

Turns out I needed to dance in a stranger’s living room with my girlfriends under the Milky Way, too.

So we drove, racing the temperature on the freeway until we met with dirt roads.

Driving through nothing - I feel the most free.

Driving through heat, past crooked smiles, and minutes that feel like miles.

Desert people intrigue me. I see my <future> self in them.

Abandoning all of the hard work and responsibility at a chance to be free.

Waking up and having nothing but no where to be. Rich in time. Rich in sky.

Space is important. Many people go their entire lives without it.

I meet a man at a local wine shop - he left behind his entire life in NYC and moved to the desert to play in a band that has 19 monthly listeners on spotify. He didn’t mind staying open an extra 5 minutes for us.

He’s happy, he’s pleasant, he’s free.

What the hell are we working so hard for? The world is on fire and no one loves thy neighbor anymore.

What the hell are we working so hard for.