some running horses, mostly tail—
a rooster painted on the square of glass above the sinks
(the left now filled with dirt, like a small planter)
a wire curtain, draped with horseshoes, outside the main
doorway
painted blue tiles set one by one into the raw adobe of the
kitchen
the prints of horseshoes in the adobe kitchen floor
an open door to the rest of the compound—twelve studios
a potter's wheel and a pot of poppies, oriental or Greek
the stations of the cross (how hard his fall was, the third
time, the red color of Indians, not much hope)
the wonderful crown for the desert Indians—silver and
jeweled sajuaros and turquoise; tiny figures going about their business. A crown of the sajuaro harvest; a crown
of thanksgiving.
the rough wood lintel with ceramic horses or bulls,
unshaped, running across it
rough frescos in the wall: three panels each
rocks painted turquoise in a kind of wash, tumbled slag
heaps
the mine shaft doorways, the cross-sections of cactus stem
set polished into the floor like polished redwood burls, like flowers or sea
creatures
colored metal flowers in the bare branches
cupped ceramic cactus leaves, prickly pear, the size of
ping-pong paddles, turquoise blue
rough blue-washed earthen walls (or yellow or pink)
the perfect chapel with twig bars in its adobe belfry; the
joyful colors within
—Christie
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