Strong winds have always blown across this vast grassy plain. Perhaps the area's topography has something to do with it, but the direction of the wind remains constant, irrespective of the time or season: From east to west, from the horizon where the sun rises to the horizon where the sun sets. Swept by the unceasing winds, the misshapen trunks and branches of shrubs all incline to the west. Tall grasses do not grow here, and the grasses that do grow all lie flat on the ground, bending westward. “So, my grandmother was alive then?” “She was. And I remember what a nice old lady she was, too.” End