This short story collection set in the desert southwest features spiritual themes.
What do terracotta suns have to do with racism?
Is a little bliss worse than no bliss at all?
Who is The Alchemist, the one turning things to gold, the one concocting elixirs, or the one seeking immortality?
“Soon the road was little more than a path, winding like a snake through the creosote, century plants and desert spoons. I walked on for a while, my footsteps the only noise. It must have been over 100º out there, but it didn’t seem to bother me much. There was no wind. I stopped and stood still, listening to the sun seep into the sandy soil, watching the occasional bird glide silently over the empty land, then I turned around. I never did find Peter, but by the time I got back to the truck, my head was all full of knowing. And I had resolved to buy a little piece of land out there.