Nostalgia born of the immensity of the Texan hills and the sierras of New Mexico:
gliding down the freeway, smash hits on the Chrysler stereo, heat wave. Snapshots
aren’t enough. We’d need the whole film of the trip in real time, including the
unbearable heat and the music. We’d have to replay it all from end to end at home in
a darkened room, rediscover the magic of the freeways and the distance and the
ice-cold alcohol in the desert and the speed and live it all again on the video at
home in real time, not simply for the pleasure of remembering but because the
fascination of senseless repetition is already present in the abstraction of the
journey. The unfolding of the desert is infinitely close to the timelessness of
film...