With a rousing wind the dust storm came,
swirling over the flat plain of Marfa. It beat against the trailers and tepees of El Cosmico. It was so strong you could lean against it, so thick at times it was hard to see ahead. A more cautious soul may have avoided the flying rocks and inevitable dirt in the mouth and eyes and stayed indoors, but indoors for me was a gaping tepee, and outdoors was a surreal landscape of bare trees and blue skies, blurred with clouds of dust.