This meditation takes its visual imperatives from the occasion of Mesa Verde, which I came to see finally as a Time rather than any such solidarity as Place. ‘There is a terror here’, were the first words which came to my mind on seeing these ruins, and for two days after, during all my photography, I was haunted by some unknown occurrence which reverberated still in these rocks and rock-structures and environs. I can no longer believe that the Indians abandoned this solid habitation because of drought, lack-of-water, somesuch (these explanations do not, anyway, account for the fact that all memory of the Place, i.e where it is, was eradicated from tribal memory, leaving only legend of a Time when such a place existed). – S.B.
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