The anticipation of the journey is often more exhilarating than the journey or destination itself. Behold the pure yearning for ventures into the mystic. The force of our desire holds promise to populate the hollow space within our bones with 12 million glowing stars.

Desire propels us. Sometimes Desire eludes us. When life is cut short we may be caught with or without her embrace. I can’t help but think that the pure absence of Desire is what brings great slumber closer to us. Can’t live without her. It only seems fitting she would be a lover lost in the night.

Plan and map. Roam and roam farther. To be propelled by Desire is to be alive.


Rocket fuel

You may not think this intense craving for Lay's potato chips and Prosecco could be conjured by the desert-driven thirst of West Texas. I'd maintain that the comestible combo is a perfect and symbiotic relationship. One that reflects the essence of minimalist-inspired art kids stomping the back streets of Marfa. Here, statues of vintage muscle cars stand all tattered and betwixt prickly pear and tumbleweed.

Pour yourself a glass.



A sunken, broken toy lies alone. The vast terrain of a chlorine-infused ocean serves as home. There is no place more quiet. There is no place more still. Float.

One heartbeat then another. The rise and fall of each beat and breath gives bounce between two worlds. The weightless, cold envelope is broken open for a moment. Inhale the blinding, blazing sun and giant roar of cicadas. Exhale to the depths of origin.