Some places don’t reveal themselves until you’re directly above them.
I flew Canyonlands at dusk, when the last light catches the canyon walls and turns red rock into something closer to amber. From above it becomes a map — layers of time written in stone, the river far below still carving the same path it has for millions of years.
This is a shot where the scale only lands in print. On a screen it’s a nice photo. At 24×36 on metal, the depth becomes something you feel.