Santa Fe Skies and Adobe Shadows
We rolled into New Mexico three days later, the air turning crisp and thin as we climbed into the high desert plateau surrounding Santa Fe. The adobe buildings glowed like warm honey in the afternoon sun, and the smell of piñon smoke hung heavy in every alleyway.
We parked the RV at a state park campground nestled among the cedar trees just outside town. That evening, we walked through the historic downtown plaza, past art galleries and shops selling turquoise jewelry and hand-woven Navajo blankets.
Jason stopped in front of a small bookstore with a green chalkboard sign outside reading Poetry, Travel, and Forgotten Histories.
“Let’s go in here,” he said.
Inside, the air smelled of old paper, vanilla tea, and aging leather bindings. While Jason browsed the history section, I pulled down an old volume of Southwestern photography published in 1985. Flipping through the black-and-white plates of ghost towns and abandoned mining camps, I found a small folded postcard tucked between the pages.
