I find myself back in this high desert, wandering the Carrizo. I imagine a slow pulsating glow from the Trinity Site, nearby.
I’m not supposed to be here.
I should be in London, Perth, Tokyo, maybe Rio.
I’ve been around the world countless times.
I’ve broken through polar ice, from below.
I’ve dined with world leaders, and had an audience with the Queen.
What is it about this place?
What is it about here?
Excuse me; I see Dennis.
I have to speak with him.
His dog’s been ill.