The grey sky opens above the street and my thoughts fly West.
Ever Westward. Westward ho! I pass over plains and mountains
Into the frost of the Northern winter.
The wind racks the car as my fellow travelers sleep.
Every turn has been greeted with wonder.
Where will we pause tonight?
October 2004
In the dark and distant future the Tartarus Rim can be just this side of hell . . . Or the closest thing to salvation.
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