I realized I was having a kind of strange, abstract, retrospective fun. In moments among my various agonies
the thing that was so profound to me that summer -- and yet also, like most things, so very simple -- was how few choices I had and how often I had to do the [very] thing I least wanted to do. How there was no escape or denial. No numbing it down with a martini or covering it up with a roll in the hay.
The silence was tremendous. The absence felt like a weight ...The sun still stared ruthlessly down on me, not caring one iota whether I lived or died. The parched scrub and scraggly trees still stood indifferently resolute, as the always had and always would.
I felt both uneasy about my situation and astounded by the vast lonesome beauty. should I continue on or turn back? I felt both uneasy about my situation and astounded by the vast lonesome beauty. should I turn back? I wondered, though I knew the answer. I could feel it lodged in my gut: of course I would continue on.