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riding the wind

traveling down the road, on foot or by automobile, the country and the city become intimate acquaintances whose flaws and beauty are on minutely detailed display. even if you don’t make a stop, you begin to acquire clues to the character of your surroundings.

fly over it all, however, and even the familiar becomes foreign when seen on a grander scale. friendly lazy rivers become sinuous snakes arcing and writhing in their race across the country. sediment washes that look like so much dirt at ground level take on the form of clutching, grasping dragon claws. arid iron hills are raw like the grain of red meat. irrigation, salinization make the countryside look like a giant’s water-color box left to decay. the world alternates between cities of blinding lights and the consuming darkness of a no-man’s land where the only one who sees what goes on is God Himself.

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