Bryce Canyon

“What did you say?” A breeze blew back his daughter’s hair. Sunlight glinted off her bug-eyed sunglasses.

“Hoodoo. The rock formations. They’re called hoodoos.”

“Really? Cool. I like it.”

She turned to her sister. “It’s like standing on the edge of the world.”


They snapped pictures with their phones.

Below hikers wound their way along a trail, first in view, then back out, behind another rock formation.

“Where are they going?” she asked.

“I’m not really sure.”

Mom arrived from the parking lot. “This is dangerous. Someone is going to fall over the edge. Let’s go, girls. We’re leaving.”

Photo is copyright Moyan Brenn.


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