Sometimes she thinks about running away. Then she remembers summer sunrises seen from the top of the gorge, and she stays right where she is. Where on this good green earth could she go and have such coinage to tuck in the pockets of her old photographer's vest?
It is October, and she is far from her lofty granite perch, but she is there in her thoughts. She sits with her legs dangling over the edge and watches the clouds drift by - sometimes she feels like a cloud herself.