Loneliness Is An Aspect Of The Land.

To Look Upon That Landscape In The Early Morning, With The Sun At Your Back, Is To Lose The Sense Of Proportion.

I Wonder If, In The Dark Night Of The Sea, The Octopus Dreams Of Me.

Her Name Is Ago, And She Belonged To The Last Culture To Evolve In North America.

Although My Grandmother Lived Out Her Long Life In The Shadow Of Rainy Mountian, The Immense Landscape Of The Continental Interior Lay Like Memory In Her Blood

The Landscape Of The American West Has To Be Seen To Believed And Has To Be Believed To Be Seen.