I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with the non-human world and yet somehow survives still intact, individual, separate. Paradox and bedrock.
-- Ed Abbey
The ragged sparks blew down the wind. The prairie about them lay silent. Beyond the fire it was cold and the night was clear and the stars were falling. The old hunter pulled his blanket about him. I wonder if there's other worlds like this, he said. Or if this is the only one.
-- Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian
• Gone Walkabout
• Music as Drama
• Crossroads II
• 10 Best of 2014
• January: Wyoming and the Open
• February: New Mexico and the Holes
• Coming Up
• Notes on The Accounts
• Crossroad Blues