There is a calming purity to these fields—a holiness, sculpted by silence, solitude, and unrelenting power of the wind. Lost among the quilted rectangles of grass, you can close your eyes, exhale, and hear nothing but your heartbeat. It is a place where, if you choose, you can return to the fundamental core of your humanity.
The land, rich and fertile, patiently awaits the coming rainfall. The moon casts few shadows, for living things cling low to the soil, safe from the force of the wind.
Only the wind travels easily over the fields, and it was such a wind which swept our Emily away last night, carrying her far beyond our reach, to a place without sorrow, loss or pain.