abbey-utahn

February 5, 2025

The clouds passed, in phrases and paragraphs, like incomprehensible messages of troubling import, overhead across the forested ridges, above the unsealed cliffs, beyond the uninhabited fields of lonely mesas, followed by their faithful shadows flowing with effortless adaptation over each crack, crevice, crease and crag on the wrinkled skin of the Utahn earth.

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Thought:

“I write and that way rid myself of me and then at last I can rest.”

Clarice Lispector

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