Thursday, April 19, 2018


I think this assembled panorama will be too big to fit on the page. It's an unusual place that I won't name to keep it a mystery. They fought over this pass, bled for access to the slow dribble of water from the wounded spring nearby, railroad engineers studied the land, 16 years of armies and tribes and graves and the bones of cattle bleaching under the merciless sun. And finally, the railroad is laid to the north, the pass is not needed, there are other water sources, the tribes become ghosts, the tombstones crumble, the barracks and quartermaster cabin and Victorian officer's house deteriorate before the wind and are turned back into soil. This land that was once sacred turned into strategic position, then forgotten landmark for mail coaches and then into disputed history and then back into preserved ruins that one must hike to reach on an trail empty save for rattlesnakes and crows. No flag flies on the pole, it was never owned by anyone and the land is indifferent to deed claims. Those are human realms and insignificant. The Buddha said that if you sit beside a river long enough you will see your enemies pass by, blended with the molecules of water.

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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.