Where, before sunrise, the three and a half year old boy wakes his mother and tells her, “In my dream we were walking in outer space with the stroller—just you and me—and I fell down a long long long mountain into the sea and I hurt my foot on a stick and I looked everywhere for you but I couldn’t find you anywhere,” and the mother gets up and goes off to the airport where she will fly far, far away, leaving the boy behind.




Where the propeller makes a loud and constant growl and through the thin drifting clouds, the mountains of Washington state are awe and terror and forever. (Seattle to Pullman, WA.)






Where at 4:38 pm the sun passes out of view leaving the sky above the strip mall pink and gray and yellow over the pale blue. (Moscow, ID.)