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I barely slept last night, thanks to you. I know you’re probably thinking, “yeah, Whiskey, you idiot, you slept in your car in October in the middle of Colorado, of course you didn’t fucking sleep”. And sure, I was a little cold, but I’ve got thermals. Mostly it’s the—you don’t realize it. Just how unnerving open spaces are until you’re in them.

It should be better, right? It’s not looking out on our backyard and seeing a figure amongst the trees. When you’ve got woods around you, the whole world becomes a series of shadows. Shapes and forms with dimension, ever shifting and hard to parse for how they blend together when the light changes. But you get used to the shadows. And they create a sense of place, a sense of being.

The openness of where I am—the infinite horizon and endless sky…you start to lose yourself in it. It was the same feeling I got in Lost Springs—because you can see everything around you, your brain starts playing tricks. What aren’t you seeing? Surely it’s impossible to perceive every object, every figure for miles and miles. Surely, there’s something just off in the distance waiting for you.

At least with mountains and trees, you know there are things you can’t see. You know where the shadows are. You know where not to tread.

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I need to get out of here. Go toward the mountains, where the shapes are more discernible, the dangers more obvious.

Whiskey out.

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