GOLDEN HILLS

YOU USED TO HAVE TO DIG FOR GOLD.

NOW YOU JUST HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL EVENING.

For a few minutes, the sun turns perfectly ordinary land into rather convincing precious metal.

No claim. No mine. No shovel.

Just that short hour when the West starts looking exactly the way memory insists it always did.

Too beautiful to be sensible.

Too dry to become sentimental.

GOLDEN HILLS.

Apparently, the gold rush isn’t over.

It just changed its working hours.