28% done with Blood Meridian, or the Evening Redness in the West

Words are things. The words he is i possession of he cannot be deprived of.

All will be known to you at last. To you as to every man.

The family of magicians, the fortune telling, the city of decaying mud. They rode on. Through what he likens to a gun barrel with the moon at one and and the sun at the other and all violence in between. A journey to and through hell.