The landscapes continue to evolve…
… places you would expect never to hear the sound of voices…
… places where all you would hear would be the crystal tinkling of mountain stream water flowing over rounded stone, and the wind rustling through autumn leaves…
… until snow fell, and then you would only hear the high keen of that same wind in Winter mode…
… and, often, not even that…
… the ancient valleys hushed and waiting…
… the sky expectant…
… millions of years of solitude…
… building toward the moment…
… when something spectacularly new would happen.
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