While driving from Denver to the Moab area, we had no idea where we were heading. We just knew we were looking for an inspiring, elemental location. We recognized it immediately: the timeless majesty of the sky-jutting coral sandstone was in silent contrast to the over 15 busy, city central locations we had been visiting the past 2 months.
After forty days of inescapable interaction and hundreds of intense, ad hoc talks, Moab's sweeping solitude restored essence. In awe, we found ourselves graced by a sudden sluice of raindrops. Some capricious wind blew them to us from a distant cloud. Turning toward a rumble, we saw a slice of towering crag calve and vertically rain into dust. Two rare events, shared in our few waning daylight hours.
Then we put up the screens. Tears fell as I bore witness to our small, fragile screens dedicated to the wisdom of man. In this tableau, they seemed to reflect, be in dialogue with their surrounds, the sheer rock faces in testament to wisdom. When a few people coming to hike instead get drawn to steep in the words on our screens, my thought was that even in the middle of nowhere, the screens attract and inspire human pilgrims. Finally, as we were packing up for the night, being stunned when the full moon skimmed, then rose over an incredible, jagged shadowbox.