Feb 6·edited Feb 6Liked by Nina Schuyler

Once her footing is secured beneath glaring sun and within shifting breezy caresses she reopens her eyes to the porous broken beige limestone at her feet dropping in swift vertiginous transit to orange sandstone amphitheaters whose castles adjoin piñon-juniper-prickly-pear gardens swirling over red limestone walls spilling and morphing into ancient black schist sliced neatly in half by the turquoise rapids of the Colorado River; could this be the breaking wave of her plunging soul?

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Feb 5Liked by Nina Schuyler

Hi Nina, I love this sentence, and your phrase, “vertical lift.” It feels like a piece of music that starts out nicely and spirals upward into something astral. Lovely, startling.

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