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Description
This image isn't intended to convey or align itself with any ecological, political, or otherwise contemporary ideology regarding its namesake. Autumn and I met a woman in northwestern Death Valley who, while buried within the apparently confounding cavern of shade masquerading as the driver seat of her sport utility vehicle, had forgotten what day it was. Our relatively fresh leave from southern California imbued us with the confidence to answer incorrectly: "um, Sunday, and I think that it's the seventeenth." She then remarked that she'd lost track of time, having driven there from Iowa, and that the relative change in weather she'd experienced was temporally disorienting. Her unexpected paradise must've seemed alien, as did ours at Mono Lake -- a sort of personal climate change.

Description
This image isn't intended to convey or align itself with any ecological, political, or otherwise contemporary ideology regarding its namesake. Autumn and I met a woman in northwestern Death Valley who, while buried within the apparently confounding cavern of shade masquerading as the driver seat of her sport utility vehicle, had forgotten what day it was. Our relatively fresh leave from southern California imbued us with the confidence to answer incorrectly: "um, Sunday, and I think that it's the seventeenth." She then remarked that she'd lost track of time, having driven there from Iowa, and that the relative change in weather she'd experienced was temporally disorienting. Her unexpected paradise must've seemed alien, as did ours at Mono Lake -- a sort of personal climate change.