The landscape was stark but strangely beautiful and liberating for myself as well as my dog. I was struck by the silence, a sound so profoundly empty that its depth provided a clarity to my thought and perceptions. Except for a melody from “Dark Side of the Moon” playing in my head, all was stillness.

I walked away from Judy and Mica and held my breath for as long as I could to eliminate even that soft sonic intrusion to the stillness. The last remaining sounds, the cries of raptors hovering high above the sands, became magnified and focused. Just as the space and lack of humidity in the desert air can distort the sense of distance, its silence can alter the perception of sound.

In this epiphany of sensations, I was reminded of the lost officer in Apocalypse Now, who was sent to assassinate Col. Kurtz in the jungles of Cambodia. “Give away the digital cameras, sell the computer, rebuild my darkroom, fire up the enlarger. I’m in the wilderness and the light is much too intense for these stupid pixels.” Fortunately for my prospects of success in my new high-technology teaching gig, this feeling soon passed.