I fell in love with the desert on my first trip to Las Vegas at eight. My folks drove 5 hours in a mild blizzard so we could see the Grand Canyon. My Mom hated the stark rocky red landscape, but I smooshed my face up to the window and watched the whole way. At the Canyon, I stood on the very edge of a cliff, like the one drawn here and felt the wind pull at me so hard that my dad held me to keep me from falling. I've been back to that place about 5 more times over the course of my life and when I'm not there, it haunts my dreams.

Pencil, ink on paper