The place where I returned to polish my edges.

The Place Where I Return to Polish My Edges. The Place Where I Return to Polish My Edges is Escalante. The harsh, mostly empty, intimidating environment found in Southern Utah is a place I have nostalgia and continued curiosity for. The terracotta sand is familiar, but remains brutally indifferent to my reappearing appearance. The desert doesn’t offer comfort like a forest or field of wildflowers. My deepest gratitude for the high desert is that She listens. I have roved through miraculous fairytale forests that listen, but they also harbor secrets. Forests are awe-inspiring because of the deep knowledge embedded in the moss beds and root systems. They are like a layered oil painting, stratified with historical revelation. The desert’s barren-ness serves as a near blank canvas to say, do, and move within. Let Her have it, share a burden or an itching idea, and She too will let it go. She takes slow breaths and never breaks eye contact. She is stern and sound. The desert has patience of another grain. Severity brings clarity… or so I tell myself when I am with Her.