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(Caught most typos but unlikely all.) Mexico was not a country; it was a state of mind that never changed and was responsible for the blood on many a stone altar. I jumped the broomstick with an Indian girl up on the Staked Plains when I was seventeen, I think … The salt, the rain falling on the horizon, the fish roe in the seaweed, the fragrance of the land, and the coldness of the wind, the way it all comes together like it's part of a plan. It’s the first chapter in Genesis. It’s the smell of creation, Miss ruby. We’re part of it, too. “You supper is ready.” ”I’m going into town for a little while.” “If you want to get drunk, do it here.” “I never drink in my home.” “That doesn’t make sense.” “Getting drunk doesn’t either. That’s why people get drunk. They cain’t make sense of anything, least of all themselves.” “Thanks for explaining that. I’ll throw your supper in the yard.”