“I’m a flat-earth conspiracy theorist.”
That’s my cab driver Brian. He’s taking me to the La Luz trailhead outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. He’s been sober since ’94 and says the King James Bible guides him through life.
When Brian takes a call I try to remember the names of all the cacti and stare up at the immense crags of the Sandia Mountains.
We pull up to an intersection and there’s a homeless man asking for money.
“I’m gonna look like him in two weeks.”