The road unravels in the low desert, far below sea level. A map of insects splattered on the windshield. The Sonoran Desert slides into the Imperial Valley, the Valle de la Muerte, the Valley of the Dead. Passing through Niland for the last time ever, driving off this mobius at Mexicali dislocating to Calexico, paying off the border guards with the guy’s casino winnings, crossing the flat dry bed of the Laguna Salida towards the Gulf of California. Thousands of sparks flying, valvesand pistons pumping, fan blades spinning air hysterically and you see the expanse of horizontality split open into a thin blue line of water between earth and sky and beyond.
Silence. Then the words, “yeah, YEAH,” come through the radio. “Nobody knows, nobody sees, the light of life keeps burning and another soul goes free.”
The road unravels in the low desert, far below sea level. A map of insects splattered on the windshield. The Sonoran Desert slides into the Imperial Valley, the Valle de la Muerte, the Valley of the Dead. Passing through Niland for the last time ever, driving off this mobius at Mexicali dislocating to Calexico, paying off the border guards with the guy’s casino winnings, crossing the flat dry bed of the Laguna Salida towards the Gulf of California. Thousands of sparks flying, valvesand pistons pumping, fan blades spinning air hysterically and you see the expanse of horizontality split open into a thin blue line of water between earth and sky and beyond.
Silence. Then the words, “yeah, YEAH,” come through the radio. “Nobody knows, nobody sees, the light of life keeps burning and another soul goes free.”
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