Living in the desert, one becomes accustomed to seeing vast, open swatches of sky peeling out in all directions because most of the things that grow out there are stubby and low to the ground, including the residential houses, typically sprawling single story things, though more multi-story buildings are popping up more and more as the population grows. Generally speaking, though, once you move away from the teeming heart of the city, things tend to get low and long, creating an unobstructed stretch to the horizon. Even on the Las Vegas Strip proper the city has relatively few skyscrapers, and there's still ample room between the towering monolithic structures to keep that view of the sky wide open. There's a lot of open spaces, a lot of long, empty drives through deserted two-lane roads to escape that insane oasis and the horizon can seem an endless, unreachable stretch. It was only after living in Japan for two years and becoming used to the labyrinthine crisscrossing of electrical wires, the shadows of multi-level apartment buildings and business crowding in from all sides, and the comforting blanket of heavy urbanity that I started to realize how an agoraphobe might feel when trying to step beyond the confines of their nest. The first time I drove upon returning to the United States, a stretch from one small satellite city beyond the borders of Las Vegas metropolitan area to the big city proper, the sheer expansiveness of it all hit me.


Catch you later!
👽
XOXO,
NAU
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