Wild horses, part three: The land of second chances

Cinders from a campfire pop and explode like fireworks somewhere in the desert outside Yuma. They trace arcs toward an infinite number of stars in the ink-black sky above, each its own possible world, an infinite number of futures spinning out of reach in dizzy orbit. The sparks turn to ash, then fall to the ground. Beers empty, and bottles of...

from High Gear Media Network Feed http://bit.ly/2LzfXe1