Dear reader, I've often suspected there's an ancient spirit wandering out in the desert, running with the wind, building tributes of stone to his long lost love.
Now I need wonder no more.
Because when I went for a trail run the other day there was his selfie, sitting out in the middle of nowhere.
Look into his eyes, dear reader, and tell me you wouldn't linger a moment if you crossed paths with this barbarian. Tell me you wouldn't lose track of time.
And if he related a story of true love, of a search that had spanned centuries and was yet undaunted, yet unbowed, then it only follows you should go home and make your own monument--an arrangement of rocks, gestures, of words--something which means you, too, look into the vast expanse of this universe and say: I have hope. I believe.