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a lone tribal shaman perched at the rim of Hetch Hetchy, observing how the wind that once tore through green meadows now only ripples across the surface of water like broken dreams, contemplating the iron hide of age, knowing that all he has ever wanted lies on the other side of fear, but restrained by that accumulation of learned defenses from a thousand tiny cuts, a misencoding of memories that has turned his mistakes from teacher to captor.