We’re pleased to share the following notes and images from lovebirds and collaborators Zac Taylor and Brook Power. Zac captures Brook as she wanders in and out of view on a waning desert day and Brook shares her innermost thoughts on creating in the midst of desolate beauty. Dive in below to read her words and see his point of view.
We are still on the road.
Not sure where. Alongside the train tracks somewhere in this cacti strewn country.
I’ve been having a reoccurring daydream lately, of an army of Sequoia, pulling their roots up from the desert and lurching into motion. Some are crawling over the dusty ground and laughing from jagged thorn crowded mouths.
Then I see the sequoias bursting into bloom. The neon orange and pink flora suddenly demobilizes them. Their limbs sag heavily on the ground and there’s a hush. Little horned lizards lick dew drops from the petals the next morning and crawl over the fallen bodies.
My husband thinks I’m nuts. He’s driving. His face is scruffy. He looks content. Maybe because his whole life is moving with him down the road.
I imagine this land is thirsty.
And when it rains, I would be able to hear an audible sigh of thirst quenching. Hell, I’m always thirsty out here.
We hiked four miles underground into a cavern yesterday. Baby boy loved to hear his little shrieks echoing across the caves. Even for all of its crystals, stalagmites, and dark corners, I couldn’t wait to see the gleam of blue sky again.
I raced the dogs on gleaming sand dunes one night.
They charged out onto the rippling white waves like little steam engines, their hot breath trailing behind. They won.
The sun is sinking and we are speeding alongside a dark mountain range. A little wooden house out on a plateau is holding onto the last beam of sunshine as long as it can before the shadows take it. So many lonely places you pass. So many places you meet so briefly, and know you won’t ever return to.
See you on the other side of the desert friend. We will try to drive all night.