The desert of Nevada speaks to me in whispered tones. It is a silent, yet undeniable beauty. The subtletlies can be found in the creases and folds of the earth and rock. The nuance is in the shades of gold and the hues of pinks and blues. The color pallette is striking, and I am enthralled by its complexities.
It is hot. Degrees in the hundreds. I am summoned by the scorching heat to stay still and to pay attention. The mechanics of my body are on overdrive as my hypothalamus adjusts accordingly. I notice every bead of persperation trickling down my back creating a capillary network of tiny watermarks. It is monsoon season, they tell me. So nightfall brings welcome relief. Soft breezes that make the curtains dance and come to life. Just cool enough for an extra light layer of clothing. Cool enough to sleep peacefully through the night.
Upon the sun's return, you awake from its piercing stare through the window cracks. Sharp rays slicing through the cool air inside. Reminding you that the desert awaits. Daring you to come out and play.
I couldn't have said it any better myself.
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