Finding What Really Matters When It All Shifts for the Worse
The Vegas mid-day sky is strangely dark and slightly orange. The sun, ordinarily a blazing hot laser that has this amazing hostility in the desert, is muted. I can stare right at it and see it’s perfect circle. It is the stuff of a Ridley Scott dystopia.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”