the desert, face to face on a moonless night
and for people... as Jack Kerouac said "the made ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..."
those who dream of the desert - wanting to sleep in her stark arms, artists, deep thinkers, visionaries, photographers, people who contemplate how we interact and inhabit this earth, those that want to restructure America's physical form, seekers - the rough and raw who want to touch the heart of place, many many many people but god damn i ask for so much
participators, not spectators