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leave, Luis and myself, have our portrait taken by the town photographer,
the batteries on my video cam-corder had died . . . I only had gotten ten
minutes of tape during all those days.
I decide to leave together. We got back into our traditional clothing
which we had shed so as not to bring attention to our conservative views
regarding story telling. We waited by the highway for the bus which would
bring us to the airport in Gunnison. I boarded a little plane - a unit
with all the appearance of a "hair dryer" - which would take
me to Phoenix, and from there to Los Angeles, while Luis would go back
After lift off, I carefully take out from my satchel, a book which was given to me by Mark just before my departure. I read the title for the book: Wisconsin Death Trip. I think to myself, now isn't that a lovely gesture? I can't think of a more appropriate book to give someone who was almost deceased a few hours ago, and is now about to go flying. The book however is fabulous.