After driving north for six hours the sun pulls itself up in the East and the purple dawn extends its hands out to the red gold of sunrise. A few more highway miles under the tires and the small dirt road appears.  Sparrows shoot out of a small shrub as the car rounds a corner and begins down the hill.

Along the overgrown path birds sing their hymns to the sun while crickets bade the moon goodnight. At the end of a path a cropping of rocks cradles a hot spring.

Floating on her back, steam rises from her navel.