Desert Flower — Anaak

There’s something indescribably beautiful, sparse and plaintiff about the desert. We traveled there this spring to warm our bones till we were glowing inside out with the dry, dusty warmth of the Sonoran desert—navigating the ocean floor of the desert in gauzy, lighter-than-air pieces, sweaty and flushed, the heat sending our blood rushing through our veins—salty and sun-kissed and brown. The tacky leaves of the creosote bushes exhaled their bright, clean, sharp smell—the one that the rains release every monsoon season—while the ancient saguaro’s looked on. 








Images by April Valencia
Muse and Words by Lisa Przystup

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