This is the Folsom, New Mexico, cemetery on a cool November afternoon. I like the yellows of the grass with the blues of the skies. Centered almost exactly are the graves of those who used to in habit the now sleepy town.
I showed up on this world an infant during the Cold War in an atomic town. Little did my squirming little body know then, but I would see stuff only dreamed about in the X-Files. Later I would journey south to another atomic destination to continue my schooling. I later became a performance artist, psychologist, archaeologist, father, and photographer. My strange life still continues to this day, as I comb the deserts for little bits of rock and clay.
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