The valley of the wooden stairs is a saddle of land in my dreams,  covered in stairs, and wooden paths. Surrounded by an amphitheater of grass and boulders.

I spend time on this plot of land because it is refreshing. It is located above the roads lined with business, hotels, gem shows, strip clubs, and fences. It is also very close and slightly east of campground like cabins placed in Eucalyptus forests.

If I venture to the West by Northwest, the land sometimes turns into Haleakala. 

Walk straight, down towards the brown fields of grass and the ocean, turn  East  and I'm in Colorado world. 

Up the field and to the right is a place I always back down from. I've never made it to the right, not even with the meanderings of a thousand stairs. It seems to be a border not made for my eyes.

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