MOJAVE MOMENTS

Deserts are like lovers. You always think you know what you’re getting into but they each taste different, bringing with them a new kind of thirst to keep you coming back. Sweet and salty, like all the best snacks and backhanded love songs, the arid wastelands of America are home to so many flavors of magic, so many layers of relentless mystique.

The Mojave isn’t a gentle place, though there is a softness to it once you’ve learned how to respect its boundaries.

In this, I understand it.
In this, I feel understood by it.

Like most deserts, The Mojave reeks of broken promises and is littered with the artifacts of countless failed attempts to tame it. Like any good lover, it asks for nothing that it wouldn’t just as soon provide and is honest in its indifference. Like any good lover, it takes more than a simple smoothness to find a way into the heart of it. Like any good lover, if you aren’t careful it’ll chew you up and spit you out before you even have the chance to recognize your own delirium.

Lewd and lustful, The Mojave always gives you what you need but are too afraid to ask for.