One by one, many of the moving parts of our journey have fallen off by the wayside, like furniture and bedding lashed to the back of a 1923 Ford pickup driving west from the Dust Bowl, left by the side of the highway in our urgent quest for a goal with no known reward except possible release from a lifetime of memories: our camper sits ailing where we left it for the mechanics to work their magic, now the dogs at a green oasis, to be minded by a kindly creature of the desert…
Now we travel with each other, surrounded by memories and spirits of the past, hoping to reach some kind of peace at ten thousand feet in the heart of the mountains.
Will we emerge from the wilderness, draped in white raiments, cleansed of our sins, and full of a new kind of power?

2018-06-11 19.25.59

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