Now I dream of the soft touch of
women, the song of birds, the smell of soil crumbling between my fingers, and
the brilliant green of plants that I diligently nurture. I am looking for land to buy and I will sow
it with deer and wild pigs and cottonwoods and sycamores and build a pond and
the duck will come and fish will rise in the early evening light and take the
insects into their jaws. There will be
paths through this forest and you and I will lose ourselves in the soft curves
and folds of the ground. We will come
to the fawaters edge and lie on the grass and there will be a small unobtrusive
sign that says, THIS IS THE REAL WORLD, MUCHACHOS, AND WE ARE ALL IN IT. -
B.TRAVEN.
(Charles Bowden: Blood
Orchid)