Lookout
I’ve always wondered what it would be like to stay in one of those old fire towers out in a state like Wyoming. Just sitting out there in the middle of the overbearing countryside, watching the natural processes unfold in real time before your very eyes, no longer obscured by the blinding sights of civilization and human life. The smells of reality bombard your nostrils and the crunch of leaves and pine needles caress your ears and the sight of that sunrise blinds you every morning and yet the sight of sunset does not blind you at dusk. I know that not all of the old fire towers are abandoned, and that some are still manned by people who seem to crave so deeply such a sense of solitude. What would compel someone to seek out a place such as that for such an extended period of time? What kind of person could tolerate such an environment for the duration of an entire season? What are they running from? Perhaps it is an inescapable circumstance that appears in the darkest corners of their nightmares clear as day. Perhaps it is a lifelong affliction of some intangible sort that the likes of literally anyone but themselves could never manage to comprehend in their entire existence.