The pictures are blurry because I can't bring myself to stop the car to take them. These are people's homes, and here more than ever it seems like stopping would come off as disrespectful, as exaggerating the difference between my life and that of those whose house I'm driving by. Especially with my beater car and California plates. Especially with my point-and-shoot camera.
Driving through the Navajo Nation is like driving through another country, and not just because of the Navajo language AM station. It's dusty and arid, and there are trailers and prefab houses everywhere. A woman herds sheep on a hillside, but there's no cattle and no agriculture in sight.
The scrub continues around the curvature of the earth.