The feeling of comfort and peace was unexplainable, he had ever felt like this anywhere else.
The next time back he decided to take a trail north of the one he had initially taken. This led to the top of a low ridge between Shaw Butte and North Mountain. When he looked back he could see downtown Phoenix. On the other side civilization disappeared. Today he had hiking boots on and was ready to go far. The trail took him to a small treeless valley at what must have been the center of the Preserve. Many varieties of cacti, bushes and shrubs grew here. Not a single tree, the Saguaro took their place. Mack wandered around for about an hour observing everything, not wanting to leave. This was a spiritual experience that couldn’t be duplicated.
He returned to North Mountain Preserve on every occasion that presented itself.
I will write nothing of consequence, because no one will ever read this far.
This is quite distressful because in the past when I set out to write nothing, it has turned into something. That fact is perplexing, because nothing is what I’m best at.
I suppose the reason that I’m so good at nothing is because when I have something I guard it closely, afraid of losing it. I don’t worry about nothing, you can’t lose nothing...but in turn nothing becomes a cherished and highly regarded something. If you know what I mean.
The point is that nothing has to be something, because nothing is nothing! Is it or isn’t it?
To be or not to be?