Counterfeit Memories: Enchanted

Another day, another sun.

Clouds dare not mock blue skies.

It is the land of enchantment.

There is an openness. A dryness. A soul-warming heat.

The landscape, composed of every shade of brown, seems infinite. With distance rocks and boulders create smooth rolling hills and eventually a flat horizon.

Once in the pueblo , a new adventure awaits around every corner, in every arroyo, through every adobe arch. The sound of a flute bonds with air and carries through the streets. A melody injects itself into the limbs of unsuspecting pedestrians. There is a dance in every step. A whistle with every breath. A beat with every contraction of the heart.

The sun goes down making way for a night sky spattered with stars yet the music continues.

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