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We go to Marfa to see the sculptures, concrete giants, all right angles and smoothness, absolute, their straight lines throwing the wildness of the desert into high relief. Holding hands, rings twinned, we follow a little path, overgrown with bright gold flowering damianita, Texas ranger in full vivid bloom. We find a lake springing out of nowhere, an archipelago of islands, wild Texas longhorns and leggy waterbirds wading, little foamy waves lapping shores like half moons. We pick strawberries from an upside down bush, sweet juice staining our fingers, making us sticky and thirsty in the full sun.