Found in Nomadland

I didn’t mean to stop here.

I was driving near the Glass Outhouse Art Gallery in Twentynine Palms, California on my way to Death Valley National Park when I noticed something across the road, just far enough off the beaten path to feel accidental. There was no sign explaining what it was. No official marker. Just skeletons — posed, dressed, chained, lounging — and a handful of handmade signs that felt equal parts humor and hospitality.

There was a wagon labeled Pictures Welcome. A guestbook filled with notes from people who’d also wandered in without really knowing why. Skeletons in sundresses and hats. Warnings that were clearly jokes. Jokes that felt like invitations.

That’s the thing about the desert. It gives people permission to build things that don’t need approval. No ticket booth. No plaque. Just someone deciding to leave something strange and human behind for whoever happens to pass through.

None of these photos really stand on their own. Together, though, they tell the story of a place that exists purely because someone wanted it to — and because the desert makes room for that kind of impulse.

I’m glad I stopped.