The land of New Mexico is some of the most beautiful land I've seen.
The flat plains of Texas give way to jutting plateaus, which make room for dry riverbeds which turn into tall, scraggly mountain ranges that reach into the sky. As we drove along through the amazing landscape, the rounded red rock rolling by at tremendous heights, I wanted so badly to stop and climb it.
But, alas, we had to keep driving.
The rock has been there for so long, I feel like if I were to climb the rock I would find a nice ledge and sit there forever, because the awesome monstrosity would have me transfixed with its stories and I would never be able to move.
It would whisper me to me about the sands of time that have taken their toll on it, it would bubble the stories of the rains to me, the tales of the animals and people it has seen.
But in all it's storytelling it would complain not once. Because even though it sat there through the rain and snow and floods and fires, if none of that would have happened, it wouldn't be what it is today.
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