As I study the old adobe structures, that look like boulders and slumped stone, polished in the winds and sun of the ranges of New Mexico, the plains that bake in the clearest, azure skies — there’s a contrast to the brilliant blue and the heavy sands of the desert.

The potency is shocking.

There, the movement — reaching up, between one, the sanded stone and the other, the wildly shimmering sky — there is a ladder. It’s hand-made, polished in the use of many climbers.

I too feel the need, in seeing any ladder, the stair should be climbed.

That’s what they are for.

Ladders, climbing.

Step by step.

t | Taos, New Mexico