Maybe it is the way things stay the same – or feel the same – as they have for years. It’s a place that stopped moving the way the rest of the world moves.

It also asks for nothing.

I wanted to come here and cry. Stay in a place where no one would tell it me would be okay. I wanted to be. To deteriorate and fall – escape into darkness – even for just a second.

Then, I sat here.

Sunever Cabin, Joshua Tree, CA

The sun is low – caught, almost willingly, between day and night. The glow around the clouds softens from a biblical white to a sherbet of pink and orange. The wind blows the trees but leaves the sand on the ground.

Across the driveway, a tortoise meanders through the brush – covering familiar ground on an unfamiliar day. She stops briefly in the shade then continues on.

The mountains become silhouettes as the sun lowers behind them – like sketches on the horizon.

As the light dims on the desert floor, I wonder if the desert is a darkness so exposed it feels comfortable.

Or maybe it’s the unexpected balancing – like lemon water balances your acidity – being in a place that lets you be dark makes the darkness fade – or lets the darkness become something else.

It almost feels like love.