Post Palm Springs Photo Festival.
The silence is overwhelming, even that silence that rages in my head. The festival is over and there is a sadness. You can live another life during this event. You can let the walls down, forget about the tangy reality of the life of a photographer and just allow your brain to turn on the swivel.
The day after we are still in town. The wind blows at 70 mph, the air filled with debris, our ears with sand. It feels good to just sit and listen, to not talk, to not think, to try and remember the tidbits, those moments that you say to yourself, as they happen, I should never forget this time, this place.
Coming down from this trip is like a winding road leaving the altiplano, spiraling slowly from the great peaks down into the lowlands. In the rearview you can see the great landscape as it pulls you to return. It's not that the cities and lowlands are not without their charm, but there is a magic in the mountains, same with this event.
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