Daybreak at Bryce Canyon

I woke up in Dixie National Forest this morning to find out my 5 gallon water tank could've been sold to a local fraternity as an ice luge. The Land Cruiser barely started, but once it got going I was in a damn good place. I headed towards Bryce Canyon National Park, to see what a cold November sunset might reveal and it was truly stunning. I spent the whole day there climbing around where I shouldn't have been and chatting with folks from the nearby shops. Nothing but folks with nothing to prove apart from their love of the land. The following January, I found myself sitting in a doctor's office in Brooklyn (where I had temporarily moved to) and just outside the office was a frame poster of Bryce Canyon. It was faded from years of lazily hanging there with no real purpose in a health clinic. I asked my phlebotomist what he thought of the poster. He laughed and said after working there for 8 years he never realized it was even there. I asked him if he'd ever been there or would want to go visit. He looked at me sideways, as if it was a mythical place that didn't actually exist, so I laughed it off and told him he should go if he got the chance (as he drew blood from my arm). That was the first moment I realized living in New York was going to be a conflict of interest with my spirit.