Where the old town still whispers

We drove down Main Street in Telluride, the peaks closing in around us, joining where the valley narrows.
On the way, we passed rows of homes that looked like they belonged to another world — beautiful, worth millions, but somehow distant.

It wasn’t until we reached the end of the road, where the cliffs rose high and the light hit that red stone just right, that I understood why people fall in love with this place. I took photo after photo of the mountains ahead, trying to capture that feeling.

But the view that stayed with me wasn’t in front of me — it was behind.
A small shed, weathered and quiet, still standing where time has swept everything else forward. A piece of Telluride’s past, whispering through the valley.

That’s where this artwork began.