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Take the Campeche line out of Mexico or Veracruz (second class accommodations are half the price with little difference in comfort) and disembark with your perspiration at the Palenque station, named after the nearby breath-taking ruins. Here we find a mushroom with particular inner color, filled with the age old insanity of the Mayans, wisdom stored as knowledge in the mushroom’s files, as a tree stores its glucose in fruit.
By Frank GrazianoMarch 1978A horse falling from the night sky, a tree spirit, a little girl in a blue dress
By Our ReadersFebruary 1978Footsteps. Coming from behind us, coming up on the back of the tent. They came steadily and quickly. One, then another, and a third. A twig snapped under the weight of one step. (How melodramatic, something in me thought.) Another step. They were heavy and man-like, not soft and meditated like those of a cat. Human steps. Stopping almost right on top of us.
By Dee Dee SmallJanuary 1978Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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