The walls are created by eons of painstaking craftsmanship with wind and water, two tools artist nature has used. I was trying to recite some and compose some poems in my mind just in case I needed to answer why I was there. Words rushed through me just like silt and debris that flowed through the muddy river after the heavy rain; utterly meaningless and inconsequential. In the end, I came out with few blisters on the feet, probably it was a warning if at all I dare to capture in my words or few millimeter wide digital sensor... these amazing walls, philosophic rain, spontaneous waterfalls, just enough ominous rapids, spiritual play of light, and sensuous graffiti carved out by wind...

But then we are romantic breed, aren’t we? We secretly feel closer to those who challenge us, put things in perspective for us and in the night share stars and galaxies with us. I found that friend in these canyons while backpacking for four days, and will visit him again in a whisper.