Fragment
Desert Transmission
A field note carried by static, heat shimmer, and the feeling of a half-lost signal.
The signal arrived thin and wind-burned. Every phrase sounded as if it had crossed miles of dry static before landing in the notebook.
Out past the service road, the landscape became all interruption: power lines, heat shimmer, discarded cans, one billboard frame with no surface left on it. The transmission was not a message so much as a condition. It made everything nearby feel provisional.
By the time the sun dropped, the whole field looked like it had been xeroxed too many times. Detail fell away. Only shapes remained.