This was taken on the edge of an RV park just outside the entrance to Big Bend. A small desert graveyard both scrappy and well kept. And with a clear sense of humor. I remember the wind knocking my poor thin tripod down again and again, and the paranoia that the cacti and other scary insects I saw glimpses of during the day were going to get me. I find the quiet more intimidating.

There were a number of people at the RV park who we learned were regulars, who came out regularly for weeks, sometimes many, at a time. To a place with not much beyond desert shrubs broken up by isolated large hills plateaued on top. But with a beauty of sheer scale and an undisturbed peace. Perhaps on the outskirts I was hanging out with those who wished to ultimately stay. With the wind as a hello. Or something like that less mushy metaphorical given that it was windy just about everywhere.

I left the dead to have a good time. It's not like another drink will kill them.