Here is Buckingham Fountain in front of the Chicago skyline. It was a bit of chilly day, but not as bad as it can get. In the winter there's a wind the locals call 'the Hawk'. Apparently it can be quite biting.
Here's a small part of the Painted Desert in Arizona. Nothing quite like it in Europe. For a while I just sat up on a cliff overlooking the hills, listening to the wind.
The Grand Canyon. 277 miles long, 18 miles wide in places and over a mile deep. Go there, stand as close to the edge you dare to and stare out in wonder at this 17 million year old marvel. Just don't feed the wildlife.
Life, as the most ancient of all metaphors insists, is a journey; and the travel book, in its deceptive simulation of the journey's fits and starts, rehearses life's own fragmentation. More even than the novel, it embraces the contingency of things.
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