Arizona Sunset

It was a miniature town, this hotel, living in the even larger town of Phoenix. Hidden behind the backside of a rocky desert mountain. Blinding is the red heat lamp called the sun, which rises in the clear blue sky and the light crawls through the black brush stroke of calligraphy paint rode that has traced its way around the hill. It is the home of the strong and tolerant, as the weak would not survive with their constant complaining thirst for water. The sound is specific, the absence of birds and all animals is known through this silence. There is no such color as lush green. There is no such thing as shade. There is no grass, only dirt which all looks the same and poses as the blank canvas for Mother Nature’s artistic creativity of earthenware shelters. The first scent you smell is burning wood, as if the ground is constantly on fire. Dry is the air, earth, and skin of the desert.

The buildings are strong and defined in their structured terra cotta texture like the strong defined elegance of the forgotten Aztec race. The flat walls emit an impasto of yellow, red, brown, and green shades. Windows surround the face of the hotel, open and exposed to new comers. Arched hallways are shaped like blinking eyelids conveying open minds and granite countertops accent the inside of the main building. There is nothing to hide and nothing to fear. Stairs and hallways snake though the 20 buildings changing the haven into a labyrinth. The palm trees lean on each other, exhausted from the heat, as the lonely cactus stands on the cliff ridge alone. There are no colors of black besides the road. The only color that seems to be a favorite is white. White is a feeble attempt of a color to push away the gripping fingers of the sun.

Relaxing and gentle are the sounds of the many areas of water, weather they be fountains or pools; they are the only oasis to be found for miles. The water claps for your attention and strives to be louder than its competition as you pass, thirsty for human flesh to touch its welcoming and mesmerizing texture. The large hand of god pours the gift of water from up above, down jagged rocks and plated levels conveying an enormous wall of water. Though only the young are foolish enough to fall into its grasp and the old watch lazily from the safety of their white beach chairs. The radiating sun strips the energy from all it can reach. Massive metal horses, tired from obeying the requests of the weak willed, rescue you to take you wherever your heart desires because as all of the foreigners know, walking from building to building is too tedious.

The night portrays a whole different story. Deserted as the greenery, as is the population that can’t be found. The moon only a large diamond in the sky compared to the shimmering stones of million of stars that surround it. The night emphasizes the spot lights that can be found on buildings, trees, and reflecting off of the glistening water which is now calm with absence of people drowning themselves for refreshment. The black street connects with the sky making the terra cotta buildings float in their own space in the darkness and the dirt is cold, as is the air. This is a cold, which is comforting and chilling to the bone. You are never satisfied. The darkness is too cold, but the sun is too hot.

There is no clutter as there are other places. There is no surrounding of trees, or tangling of vines. No stray leaves, wet pavement, cloudy skies, or moisture in there air. The sun does not have more than one face, it only has one color, and here in Phoenix is the only place where the red sun resides.

This place is a haven for foreigners to the red soil, but there are also natives mixed into this inexperienced crowd. Through their eyes, each cluster of sun-baked homes has a purpose. The hot sand is their ground. This town is not meant to serve, but sustain, because they are what has evolved out of the dust and cracks of the dry heated desert. This heat, they thrive on. Their energy, they keep. Their thoughts and purpose reflect their culture of the strong willed Arizonans.

-Noelle