Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

Fourteen
Right at the edge of Navajo Reservation in North-
Arizona, the red mountains rapidly yield and make room
for a stony dune scenery with a gleaming sun above and a
black line of asphalt right through it. Wooden poles with
electricity wires on the one side, railroad on the other.
We’re alone on the road, as far as we can see. ‘Whooee ieee,
ride me high’, The Byrds sing. ‘You ain’t going nowhere.’
The land is empty, except for a couple of Indian settlements
that, from a distance, resemble a Dutch refugee
center for asylum seekers. Uniform houses set up in
straight lines. A scattered little group of children or an
occasional old car. Nothing more. You can live there, but
that’s it.
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