You meet before dawn in the low-lit lobby of the Million Air building, the airport hum muted and cool. Outside, the burners scratch the silence like a foreign animal; a balloon unfurls across the tarmac and the sky at first is the pale blue of a waking page. As the envelope fills, the city of St. George drops away into a grid of sleeping roofs while distant ridgelines sharpen into serrated red silhouettes. When you finally lift, the ground reorganizes into patterns—ridges, washes, and the patchwork of irrigated fields—each feature claiming its own steady story beneath the basket.