The American West has a way of stretching dimension, distorting perception such that minds like mine, accustomed to the more closer horizons of the East or elsewhere, are somehow stoked into a state of constant, albeit calm, attention. Such a frame of mind naturally leads to the desire to construct frames of image.
Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.