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December 30, 2010
Running through the middle of the desert was a ravine--a wide, steep gash cut across the Old Man's face. During the dry season, it was lined with loose sand. Most wanderers used it as a highway to get from one end to the other. During the wet season, however, it became a bog, a dangerous land of quicksand and mudslides and floods.

I liked it best then. It reminded me of myself. Even in its most stable phases, it was still shifty and uncertain. And when storms of passion struck, it became terrible. Terrible and beautiful and wild.