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“During a brief excursion out into the Great Basin of Nevada, I came over a ridge and spotted an abandoned copper mine. The silence of the detritus broke only to F14 fighter jets rumbling overhead and the wind whipping its way through a flapping sheet metal panel on one of the buildings. This small encampment held the dreams of dead men, a small scar of human memory in the vast, unfeeling desert. My companion and I trudged down the drainage to the mini town and felt the eerie stillness before nearly tripping over a rattlesnake and returning back over the ridge.” – Eric Diehl
