Saturday evening: It’s raining in Phoenix. The day was hot, and now the rain fills the air with smells. It’s amazing, how one part of the sky is a deep blueish purple from the storm clouds, at the same time as the horizon shifts from a sinister yellow to bright pink and bloody red from the setting sun. The mountains are only shadows.
Phoenix is a strange place. I don’t know how else to put it.
Katja Malmborg 