change , these people were warm and kind and welcoming in a way I haven ’ t experienced in other parts of the country .

I visited Terlingua to see the ghost town and buy gifts for my daughter . Outside the Starlight Theater , a man drinking Foster ’ s strummed a guitar and sang “ Someone Who ’ ll Watch Over Me .” On the drive back , I stopped at what I thought was an art gallery and got sucked into a portal I won ’ t describe . Some mysteries are better left undisclosed .

I spent a day in Marfa , for the oil change . I saw the Kenneth Tam exhibit “ Tender is the hand which holds the stone of memory ” at Ballroom Marfa , bought an irreplaceable vintage shirt at Raba Marfa , and visited Mother Mary ’ s Spiritual

Goods for a tarot reading . The proprietor , Amanda Holstien , is an intuitive and pragmatic reader , and the questions she asked as she led me through each card would prove helpful for several months into my future . As I was visiting the area and beginning the Wheel , I was in a metamorphic phase of my life , which the poem points to but doesn ’ t name . we ’ ve passed through the underworld perhaps we ’ re still there sound installation earth + fire two screens placed on a hinge bending inward altering speeds do you feel like you have to hide yourself do you feel like you have to be someone else I say your name to a stranger she cleanses her hands in oil she breathes in she says you ’ ll carry your own knots and I see the knots before me in the placement of the wands interlaced fingers

Amanda gave me a concoction of crushed eggshells to wash away my bad portal experience . The powder shimmered as I brushed it against my body and washed it away with water . There ’ s power in making a metaphor a physical act . I cover myself in a shell and emerge from it anew , a snake shedding its skin , ocotillo gone dormant until revived by rain .

On my last day , I returned to Gage Gardens , wrote postcards , and left a portion of a poem I ’ d written wrapped in plastic film , tied to a mile marker just inside Big Bend .

the door is a blade and I am blindfolded I open the door to find another door the doors are honeycomb thresholds crossing thresholds origin : destination cosmos : eye I fall out particle : wave

time : distance

to fall in again

fall through : fall through

Marathon is lodged in my cells . The residency was healing in ways I can ’ t adequately describe . Partly it was the landscape , partly it was the people , partly it was the silence and the stars and the time to watch the sun rise and set each day , walking from one edge of town to the other . In the desert we face ourselves and each other in a way that ’ s intimate and otherworldly , unsettling and essential . I ’ m not sure it happens in any other place . �

For more information about Danika Stegeman and her work , please visit https :// www . danikastegeman . com /.