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Albuquerque and beyond

Train is picking up steam. I was able to snap a quick pic yesterday as we wove through this world and the next.

But as we headed out to tomorrow, I began to think, which can be a dangerous thing at my age. No TV mass induced medium for me, just pure thought based on a lifetime of snowflakes.
The priest and I got into a pretty good argument about salvation, love and redemption.He was filled with the self righteous indignation that Christ warns about, but I  listened to him. He doesn’t really believe in anything anymore, perhaps only in the sanctity of Mother Mary and himself. At least that is something.

Does love ever die? Are you afraid to tell it to me, even now? Art never dies, but the artist does. Do lovers ever die? Can love reach past the flesh, the mortal coil that strangles us all?

I got up and went to the back of the train last night, pondering these questions. I stepped out on the back of the caboose and let the winds carry away my whisper: I love you.

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