As the density of the forest began to disperse, I saw the shine of sheet metal in the distance. Trying to keep my footing, I made my way down the hill and across the creek. The shed was old, beaten, and on its last leg. As I walked closer, I saw the markings of an illegible name and an ‘03 along with other faded autographs. Was this the John Hancock and year that the previous explorer had left when they stumbled upon this shed? Who was here before I? Why were they here? Why did other leave or not leave their mark?
I folded the knife that I planned to use to etch my name and year. I then proceeded to cross the valley and up the hill. As I turned back and began to watch the sun set over the valley and the mysterious shed, I thought about my presence this day. My presence, along with the others who went “un-etched” will leave no mark, no record, or history left behind for the travelers who will come next...
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