Fire as a Call from the Past

Cole Hersey
Nov 1 · 4 min read

As we sat in the meadow, the smoke nestled into the valley like a coastal fog. Or like a head of grey hair resting on an old pillow. It lingered in the valley, clouding the idyllic vision of the valley I was so excited to see. But the smoke left at night. We could see the stars then, mixing at the tops of the cliffs with climbers headlamps as they prepared to sleep, suspended, beside the rocks.

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