An excerpt:
“Five years ago, the November sun baking my face, I hiked into the Chihuahuan Desert eight miles north of Las Cruces, New Mexico, into all the space and light. Sipping on my half-full Dasani water bottle, I sat on a lichen-covered rock, gazing across a lovely sea of creosote at the violet spires of the Organ Mountains twenty miles distant. The bright hillside behind me was quilted by a layer of prickly-pear cacti, their pads spreading out low to the ground, interspersed with the bent brown branches of Ocotillo.
I first saw a desert expanse like this forty-five years ago. I immediately felt the presence of a new but unknown center, as though my sympathetic nervous system had shifted its orientation. Since then I have sought out Western deserts and mountain ranges and they have always filled me with a strange abiding awe…”
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