Hot desert air chokes dust so hard even the tailless Gecko dancing on my flagstone seeks the comfort of shade. Hard heat has a way of exposing core truths. For some its despair, for others, an emptiness skillfully crafted as escape. The lucky possess a wisdom taking them deep inside while others swelter in quiet desperation.
Anyone can be driven to acts of revolution when circumstances pivot in a just right vane. And in such a perfect storm, the world’s windmill churns in chaotic syncopation with a rhythm of the next dangerous step. Who can calibrate what caused us to act, let alone react.
