Broken Gold

In the morning I get on the bike and ride to the desert. Broken Hill. Motorcycle, sketchbook, ink.

It took me a month to go. The bike was ready the whole time. I wasn't.

Out there I'll sleep under the stars and make espresso at the fire, and mostly I'll sit and wait, because the country doesn't hand you anything fast and a photo on a screen won't give it to you at all. You have to go. Sit in it. Get rained on. Then the thing that matters arrives.

I'm working on a new series called Broken Gold. The name comes out of the country itself, the burnt ground that greens again, the way fire moves through a place and something gold comes out the other side. That's what I keep returning to. Why the broken thing is so often the one worth having. Why I have to ride into the desert to listen for it.

So that's the trip. Being in the country and maybe discovering a place along the way that we can visit on the next trip north Wide Open Road.