There is only one way into paradise. It enters a valley that is wide and high, ringed about by cliffs and ridges and, at the western end, sky blue glacier creeping slowly down to the fields. The soil is deep, the product of millennial cycles of ice and melt, cracking and crushing the mountain rock, occasionally killing the hardy trees that attempt the slopes. It’s all washed into the valley’s deep bowl to mix and rot and transform into rich, dark loam. Somewhere down below, there are angles, crevices, spurs, but at the top it’s smooth and flat, but for the creek of glacier melt flowing slowly into a lake at the far end.

“The Path from l’Ome”

About the story: How was Omelas founded, anyway?