I have seen its hollywood impressions and have looked into its mysterious past; but now I see it from an expensive space craft, a horizon of barren wastelands, mass and orange morning; like thick dust at midday; a cold barrier of blue at nightfall. I have the feel for the control panel at my fingertips, the vision of an inferno red death in my eyes. And I see a canyon, a wide canyon, sharp as crystal and dull like rust, dangerous in the dark. A thunder storm creeps far off upon the fire of the land, and the night is rough and cold. We jump at the stars with agonizing feet, and suddenly a gust of wind, a gust strong and deadly and laden with strange debris of rocks, of earth satellites, comes from the hated dark — the first sigh of the east on my helmet. That I will never forget. It was frightening and breathtaking, like a nightmare, like a whispered promise of agonizing death.
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