Dry, Barren and almost empty. The Rains haven't been here for a while. Sky, bright blue, almost empty of clouds. Cracked, caked. Rocks hot enough to fry a egg on. Bush's, one step from being tumbleweeds. Broken axle, two wheels, once used, to pull someones dreams. A young starving rabbit, trying to live on dead plants, now hiding. The hawk didn't nest this year, not enough food. Even the snakes and lizards have left. A harsh land that lives by it's own rules. Sets it's own pace and all who stay here or pass through, have to play the hand they are dealt. Far different from the beauty of the lush Jungles, forested hills, but there is a beauty here, that will find you. It will turn to respect for, and a love of this severe land. All you have to do is listen. Listen to the silence of the breeze, the silence of the nooks and rills, the silence of time spent here.