As I recall the events that lead me on this journey, I am really taken back by how much I didn't want to be there. Oh, the wonders I would have missed out on. At the time I was unaware of what was suppressing my desire to go home. How could I have understood that it was a city, one thought to be dead, which was calling me? Looking back at my notes I realize now it was more than chance that brought me here.
Excerpt - 1st journal entry, Dean.
As I recall the events that lead me on this journey, I am really taken back by how much I didn't want to be there. Oh, the wonders I would have missed out on. At the time I was unaware of what was suppressing my desire to go home. How could I have understood that it was a city, one thought to be dead, which was calling me? Looking back at my notes I realize now it was more than chance that brought me here.
My mind is cluttered as I climb the last 20 feet of the cliff face. Last in the group to reach the top, I see everyone standing with their backs to me looking off into the distance. I follow their gaze across the horizon; the wind picks up; and I see a bundle of dead grass rolling across the open desert floor making its way up a small rock formation, then taking flight on a gust of wind; sailing through the air to abruptly bump into a cactus and fall apart. Something caught my eye: a small silver trailer parked at the foot of a mesa. My first thought was someone must be crazy to want to live all the way out in the middle of nowhere. Oh well, it’s their business. I have never been one to involve myself in another man’s affairs. Then for some reason I wanted to know why? Why would a person want to live way out here? I am bothered by this, its like I am being pulled toward something without any reason or inclination of why.
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