Some years ago the inimitable Kenny Rogers sung of a Train Bound For Nowhere in his opus, "The Gambler". I am searching for this man, this gambler. We are on that train. A few years further back than that, God made the world. He was industrious and creative and conscientious in this endeavor, and must be given high marks. He varied the landscape, laid down chunks of forest next to sea, desert next to mountain. The extra bits--the monotonous, the redunant--he swept up into a corner of the world he expected no one would ever see. We are travelling through those bits now. Our train is full of Mongols. Traders. Guys that once rode horses and now ride the rails. They book out a berth for themselves and their Chinese wares, then head all the way
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