Winds

The church clock strikes midnight, and my body is in a frenzy, making up for an entire day of inactivity. My mind races with inspiration and joy, but the alarm clock looms, my empty bank account screams at me to never say no to hours. Rows of contact sheet prints run along my line of vision, images built in the land out west, images that create the Great Space within. The red rock runs smooth along the edges, deep canyons and gasping heights in the clouds twirl through my interior, blows me away every time.

The days are too dark, too real. The view through a lens is a relief, one step away from the agony of what life is. I can rest in pictures.

I never really sleep, in real life.