Kingman AZ
On a dusty spring evening under the big sky of a setting sun, Kingman, Arizona captured my attention. While stopping at a local diner after a long day of travel I heard the blare of a freight train’s horn. Beyond the diner’s blinking fluorescent marquee the train’s diesel and its hundreds of trailing cars rumbled northeast. Cresting further east beneath the yawn of a full moon the Hualapai Mountains reflected the dusk’s remaining golden sunlight.
My senses embrace the severity of Kingman’s high desert conditions: the dry heat that sucks the moisture out of my pores, the satiation that a cool glass of water brings to my parched lips, the quiet that is interrupted only by my step upon dead weeds, and the randomness of discarded remnants strewn about by those who have moved on.
Kingman is a work in progress, and the images here are only the beginning. I intend to return again and again to learn more about Kingman, its inhabitants, and why I’m so drawn to this town.
Kingman AZ