Leaflet, "Mass Waste Palo Duro 2002"
Sometimes “out” means “in,” as in when I say “I’m going out” but I’m really going deep into these strata. No, I’m not a fan of caving—those dark ammoniac places where every skittering is magnified sideways in white wild eyes, nervous laughter. Give me an opening, places whose layers are sheared off—scree, talus massed below every new rockfall— that’s where I’m going, where the cuts are fresh and where what’s laid bare’s laid close enough to us to see.
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