When I go I leave no trace. The beauty of the country is becoming a part of me. Now the aspen trunks are tall and white in the moonlight. A wind croons in the pines, The mountain sleeps.
SAY THAT I KEPT MY DREAM
Wherever poets, adventurers and wanderers of the Southwest gather, the story of Everett Ruess will be told. His name, like woodsmoke, conjures far horizons. Everett left Escalante, Utah, November 12, 1934 to write, paint and explore among a group of ancient Indian cliff dwellings. His last letter to his parents in Los Angeles explained that we would be unable to communicate for ten weeks. Alone with his paints, books and two burros, he disappeared into what is probably the most uninhabited, unvisited section of the United States. He never came back......
No comments:
Post a Comment