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Emotion 365: The Land of Uncertain, the Capitol Lost

The desert sand cracks in Uncertain. The hardened sand wavers under a step, softens and slides. Sidewinders glide over it. Armadillos soldier on leaving tiny tracks. Persistent grasses grow in clumps. Pinks blossom after midnight thunderstorms. Coyotes jump over possums. Cacti drink from underground wells. Groundhogs sip from puddles left by flash floods. The earth drains away after vicious, whipping rainstorms. The sand yields. Coyotes cry. Dust devils blossom. The bustling life clings to the ground hiding beige bodies a top beige earth, except the black hawks and kettles of vultures which fly over looking for carcasses to land beside and hold their wakes.

In the capitol Lost, the streets are made of dust and worn wood platforms. Storefronts rise and display a few goods, stiff jeans, shirts, boots, and hats. Dust rises. The drinks, of golden liquor are even stiffer, and clears the senses of sense.

Staggering down the planks. Staggering into the dust. Wobbling back and forth. Stumbling into dim rooms with shadowed entrances. The rooms overlook the streets where guns fire in the afternoon.Pull back the heavy dust-caked curtains to see the fighting. A horse hangs its head and longs to join its scruffy brethren out on the prairie in search of water.

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