There have been just two times I’ve crossed paths with Texas, each based around the promise of fried food and glowing neon that were so pervasive you could feel them baked into the invitation. And with the premise of meditation under a red glow comes the strenuous journey through the suburbs just down the road.
If the fair exists in the primary, yellows, reds, blues, it's this land that sits in the secondary, greens, muted orange and brown, and the occasional superficiality of purple.
