Memory Palaces

In 1978, while tramping near Gallup, New Mexico (journeys through time) I photographed this desert runner. Different than in zoos this Mountain Lion, and I saw her alive, there, from my perch on the side of a hot and dirty highway, looking towards the foothills, hoping for some success towards my goal of Taos. At other times (during that same time, a long time away) I would , when working, hear them, with horses tethered to Aspen trees, resting at night after horse packing trips (I was an able horseman and guide) and at such meetings the horses smelling and hearing, spooked and spooky, agitated and trouble for the trips. Those are times when feelings grip you towards your fire, when the cold black oiled air of high mountain meadows closes on you and embers of coals hold your eyes close.