A Quaint dream: Words and thoughts, passages of prose, like a faint passing dream from my recent trip. Part Eight.

The continuation of that random stray thought from part six.  Turns out I did write something more…



…We came to a river, except there was no river.  It was just dried sand and silt, and perhaps there was a trickle of the remaining water.  There were large grey stones to either side of the monolithic obelisks marking a former time and land.  They were embedded in a frame of pale gold hills…


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