Thursday, October 27, 2005

One Hundred Words About A Desert

It is four O’clock in the morning. It is dark and the air is biting. Either the sky has begun to brighten or I have got used to the dim predawn light.

I can only hear our sleepy, dry voices. Out there in the thin light is silence and beyond that the broken wall of rock that drops down into the canyon, hundreds of meters below.

Then the sun comes like a knife over the mountains. And I stand in the shadow of the earth. Soldering light scolds the cracked rock. I watch my own shadow forming – in an instant.

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