The radio crackles and fades the deeper I venture into west Texas. Distant sounds of Mexican mariachi or repeat versions of NPR broadcasts are my only options.

I choose silence, and let my mind watch giant tumbleweeds and dust devils emerge from the landscape to playfully cross the lonely road.

The bright sun and blue sky seem to play tricks on my eyes. A single building appears on the horizon. I slow the car down to see the words “Prada” on the storefront. Yet it isn’t a storefront, it’s the beginnings of Marfa….

The town, once a thriving military base, is now home to artists and cowboys. A place that is three hours from anywhere, just the way the locals prefer. One would almost think it to be a ghost town upon first approach.

Marfa has the feel of a Hollywood movie set from the 1950’s, one where the budget went over, the film abandoned and the props discarded. Ironically, the Rock Hudson movie “Giant” was filmed here back then, a claim to fame for the few that remain.

Now though all that is here are architectural relics and soft light from the yonder horizon. A place where one can walk the empty streets without harassment, lean against a wall and wonder.

Wonder about the sweet dreams that were made of these…..

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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