Return to the Nude Bowl

Blue Tile Obsession

jt2

I’m sitting on a rock. A small fire sparks and smolders. Smoke drifts like my thoughts. I walked today. There are cliffs and huge boulders that I could see, a few kilometers away from my campsite. I packed water, some fruit and stepped out into the desert. No path. No plan. Periodically, I stopped and looked behind me. I marked my position with the hills. Nothing lived and nothing moved except me. No insects, no animals, no birds, no life. Everything was dried and crunched underfoot. Even the cactus and Yucca spines seemed like green bones to me. The earth was dry. A deep -seated thirst. It was like the ground longed for something it could no longer recall. I scraped away the surface layer of dirt from the shaded side of a huge Yucca tree and sat down. I drank. Silence. It was the loudest sound. My mind wandered…

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About P.I.S. Blogging

We are freelancers, writers, artists, publishers, skateboarders, surfers, anarchists, musicians, extremists, radicals, and d.i.y. punk rockers. We all come together to bring our talents to our collective table of hardcore minds. Music is art and we are artist who love music. "All Hail Solidarity!"

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