Nina reminded me the other day about this email I’d written to her about why she should move out west to Austin:
My love for the American west is– like most loves–hard to quantify, describe, put on paper. However, I will attempt to share this affinity with you by breaking it into three attributes (that also show my fondness for alliteration): free, fun, and friendly.
Free. Freedom: our inherent need to control our own person, the cornerstone of our country, the right that men die to preserve. When I think of the west, I think of freedom: Wide Open Spaces, the eagle flying strong and proud over Purple Mountains Majesty, soaring into the crisp azure. The mountains are not encroaching, but stand as enormous, aesthetic details, carved out ages ago in this land of timeless beauty, the sky stretching out above them, for miles and miles. Below, the wind rustles through the aspen leaves; a light, magical sound, fitting for this tree’s reputation for driving off evil spirits.
In America’s history, men were always pushing westward, into the untamed and unknown. The Rocky Mountains remain as a piece of America that is still wild and beautiful, waiting to be discovered by you.
