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Vintage camera study of Mexican blankets.

Black busts above a mountain ridge. Shapes outlined against a midnight sky; visible from the pale light of the rocket trails above. A warm lonesome breeze made the leaves whisper and sway overhead. The two figures remained silent. Both dreaming of things to come. The tall one stood against the Hickory bark and his hope was tangible. The last lights of the rockets faded in his eyes and he glanced down at his companion. Seated, the companion dreampt in the other direction. Remembering days of pickup football and dances long forgotten. His hot palms gripped the wheels of the chair firmly as if to steady himself in this time. Crickets sounded at their silence, and the stars shone pale like the last sight of a tired cowboy. They waited for an eternity straining for the echo of that last flight into space. A dark freedom of this place. A new beginning for tired souls. Both paths led to this quiet sea. Whether by science or religion was the only difference. This thought almost occured to them, but a disturbance in the coliche below cooled thier fervor. A shared glance brought a smile like the quiet tinkle of ice in a cool glass. Together they looked back to the darkness in a warm desert night.

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