"At evening I would go out into the glade and climb
high above the river to the base of the cliff.
I would gather scarlet flowers and come down when the stars gleamed
softly. Sighing winds would eddy down the canyon, swaying the tree tops.
Then the leaves would cease their trembling;
only the sound of rippling water would continue, and the spirit of peace and
somnolence would pervade and the red embers of my fire one by one
turned black and shadows deepened into a gently surging slumber."
~ Everett Ruess



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