none_of_the_roads_were_paved raze "in the fall i would spend hours on the edge of town looking out over the prairies. what a good time of the year this was, with the grain ripe and ready for harvest. the pump house roof was one of the best places for watching. it was pretty high and nobody could see me. the roof was slanted a little, with slats about a foot apart almost like a ladder so's you couldn't slip. i'd lie on my back, my eyes squinting a kind of focus which allowed me to see only what i wanted to look at. i could shut out the bustle of the roundhouse and look right past it just by squinting a certain way. all around, the world was gold and waving gently, except when i'd look straight up. nothing is higher or bluer than a prairie sky in autumn. white, fluffy clouds float aimlessly. as long as i kept my eyes half-focused, nothing could have been more peaceful and nowhere could the world have been more in tune with itself." — robert h. hahn 240915 what's it to you? who go blather from