This was taken on the edge of an RV park just outside the entrance to Big Bend. A small desert graveyard scrappy, 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 find me. The quiet is intimidating.

There were a number of people at the park who we learned were regulars, coming out regularly for weeks or months at a time. To a place with not much beyond desert shrubs broken up by isolated large plateaued hills. But with a beauty of sheer scale and undisturbed peace. Perhaps on the outskirts of where people venture I was hanging out with those who wished to ultimately stay a little while longer. With the wind as a greeting. Or something like that but less mushy metaphorical given that it was windy just about everywhere else as well.

It's not my place to disturb the dead. And it's not like another drink will kill them.