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Author
Language
English
Description
Beside a rain-swollen river in Patagonia, a man approached on a horse. His mount, a rusty red beauty, sported the short-trimmed mane and neatly squared-off tail of a well-kept horse. The man wore goatskin chaps, a woolen poncho, and the jaunty black beret typical of the region. This pair belonged to this place in a way I could only dream of. The man stared at us. We were up to our knees in mud and dwarfed by huge backpacks. It was apparent we had...
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