By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.

Pain for the old was no longer a surprise.

Each the others world entire.

Then they set out along the blacktop in the gunmetal light, shuffling through the ash, each the other's world entire.

I've always been interested in the Southwest. There isn't a place in the world you can go where they don't know about cowboys and Indians and the myth of the West.

Not all dying words are true and this blessing is no less real for being shorn of its ground.

What man is such a coward he would not rather fall once than remain forever tottering?