Cumulus clouds above, out of sight as I try to comprehend the patterns they break the sunlight into on the improbable canyons below.
My eye doesn’t know where to dwell. Or is it my mind, my brain? My soul hanging back, seeing what we might decide to appreciate at this time.
I don’t know enough yet to know much of anything, seemingly. I’m merely an artist, I think. Hoping to figure it out later. Betting on later.
Standing back after the photograph. Despite instant gratification technology, nothing really has changed. Not for the artist. Not really. Despite distractions, confusion, diversions.
He or she can always come back home. Must. Shrug the other shit off and get back to the real stuff. “Social” media? See where that gets you.
Meanwhile, back in the high desert, the sandstone and canyons and deer and cactus and Pinyon pine and Utah juniper care only for…those who care.
Because if you care for a place, don’t be surprised if it will take care of you, too.
Something to ponder.