Status Updates From The Desert Year

One can own, either rightfully or fruitfully, only those things—and only so much of a thing—as one can come into some intimate relationship with. One cannot really own any land to which one does not in turn belong, and what is true of land is true of everything else. One can own only what one loves, and love is always some kind of reciprocal relationship.

Interesting how you can spend a day reading essays by Rushdie and browsing through Moorcock’s Pyat and histories of Lebanon and Afghanistan only to find comfort with a naturalist’s disquisition on the poetic undulations of desert life.

Had to leave this one behind in the Needles...will pick back up when I find it again