As we roll through the northern hills and flats of Arizona passing through reservation as the sun goes down and the desert takes on it cool blue demeanor. I see the the soft sage brush warmed by the porch lights. These lights ring still as hopeful and as hopeless as I imagine a lantern lit would be back when this land was still being fought over. Hope warmth shelter; isolation struggle to trust. I don't exactly know why I feel so connected to this desert landscape, maybe it's because I'm reading Song of the Lark, maybe it's because it is just beautiful, or that I would dream about being a cowboy, that I just want to run away and feel the energy of the earth without hesitation, or is it because I can see the edge of the earth. Melding perfectly with the sky. I read somewhere there is a freedom in seeing this edge that we need this to full fill some deep human need to feel small. This land makes me want to fall in love, into a dangerous consuming love. My heart feels open here, I feel close to something...