![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg-fGkenBD26kUAjVzUD5FFkEDzQoRuho8Fb_Xd32S73l309CX_rfWoW5869UJEcbvruUpLa-tB3wb5VxHdFFpKWphoigiU3m7jv2fm4eFOz1U1PgEChdIVlShlgDybiDFQqxnklm6Xl8N/s400/Puertas+y+Mundos.jpg)
22 May 2009. Two realms, side by side. Or are they two? The color shifting from warm to cool. Yellow ochre does its thing--a tiny touch in zinc white, and voilá the sun--or, at the least, a rosier day. To reach across a divide, when all that joins now is from the past: dark sand, mountain fire, a lonely valise behind a parked car. A pond, whereabouts unknown, with sounds of frogs. Two at least...
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