At the crossroads of duty and introspection there are signs which point the way to the house of the shaman. At the confluence of the seven major valleys one can see the mountainous range that gave birth to imagination. At the edge of memory and beneath the fold of substance is the horizon line. We light the way for travelers. We halt the way of the foolish. We give space it’s sacred status for the sake of reflection. We watch as the path transcends the map and becomes one with eternity.
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