We came down to Independence in the afternoon. The sky as we descended was white, gray, pink smeared on a dirty canvas. I had the sense---because that morning we had been very high, above 13,000 feet, and everything had been very still as we balanced on hard, flat, brown rocks---that we were walking through the sky, and that we might come down from the sky painted white, and gray, and pink, ourselves. | Copyright 2022 by Endria Isa Richardson. Narrated by Tonia Ransom.

Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices