signoff from the far, salty side of the world
Bouncing over the Twentynine Palms moonscape in the hushed moments before the sun rolled itself out from over the Iron Mountains, it felt like an adventure.
Crunching over great drifts of salt, which looked and sounded for all the world like snow...in hundred-and-eight degree weather...it felt like a trippy fever-dream.
Sitting down to the rest of my work three hours ago, it felt like mental housecleaning.
Tucking into this crackly hotel bed will feel really, really good for the moment or two I'm conscious enough to register such things.