Meet the Creator. He lives off of route 66, in a field of dust and train tracks. We found him in the desert which was only made brighter by his work yard where the sunlight danced off the glass creating a mirage of shadow around us. I wondered around his gallery, I guess you could call it that. There’s metal and glass everywhere, in every shape and pattern you could imagine. Abandoned scraps of metal such as, old gas pumps, lost keys and bath tubs. They adorn the tops of giant glass trees, it’s a glass forest I think. He eventually emerges through the metal and I can see his big white beard. I forget to ask his name but I don’t think it’s essential. He wore a scruffy pair of jeans, a creased white top and wide rimmed 70s style glasses and I think to myself he must have been creating back there. When he found out I studied English Literature at University he gushed about how important he thinks books are. He tells me a piece of his past. That when he was younger he was never interested in reading. But then he started working on a farm and the introduction of various farming equipment meant that he always had a lot of free time. In his free time he would lay in the grass and read everything he could get his hands on. How are you going to learn anything if you don’t read? He thinks books are one of the ways to unlock knowledge. At the time I smiled and thought, I’ve found a familiar soul. We took one last look around his art, this splodge of green on an empty piece of paper. Eventually we had to leave to continue our road trip down to San Diego. I waved to a passing train as we got back in the car and saw the floating graffiti sprayed on its side. There’s art humming in the air here and it’s a shame to leave.