joshua tree

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Had croissants for breakfast in the car, drove past a field of windmills and watched the temperatures climb higher. Settled around 104 degrees Fahrenheit, saw a family of big-horned sheep, watched them gracefully jump from rock to rock, worked on my farmer’s tan. Drank four litres of water in the same number of hours, took polaroïd upon polaroïd. Went off-trail, climbed rocks, felt high and short-breathed on adrenaline. Got stuck, got unstuck, got scraped and slightly bloody. Felt a little bit at home in the desert, saw petroglyphs, sat in silence for twenty minutes under the infinite of the blue sky and the infinite of ocre stone and the infinite of yellow sand. Saw rabbits and chipmunks and the San Andreas fault. Threw stones. Almost ran out of gas. Drove to Pioneer Town (est. 1946), walked into Pappy and Harriet’s diner. Sat at a wooden and tiled table, tried to read all the crazy license plates, couldn’t, probably missed some. Ordered a vegetarian burger and a lemonade and also nachos and a side of fries. Fell in love for thirty seconds with three different people. Watched the band set up, then watched the band play. Left at six-thirty, tried hard not to fall asleep on the way back and watched the sunset set the world aflame. Finished watching Pulp Fiction. Showered off the dust and moisturized and drank some more water. Said, thank you for such a perfect Sunday. 

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