The old man dragged a legged porcelain bathtub over the cracked earth toward the center point of Furnace Creek Valley. He had filled it with ice, anticipating a warm bath by the time he reached his destination, but the sun had licked it dry. He would die there, under the moon’s reflection, such was his childhood recurring dream. Now he had only an empty tub and his bathrobe in the scorching heat of the day. Continue →