’ I say. She stops but doesn’t look at me. ‘Trish.’ I say again. She turns and watches me. ‘Darling, what’s so important about church?’ ...alking back towards me, she sits on top of the tool box, after closing the lid. ‘Church by itself is not what’s important.’ She starts. ‘It’s the God we worship, He is important.’ As I don’t say anything, she continues, ‘I worship God and one way I do that is by going to church.’ Not feeling comfortable with the direction this conversation is going, I ask,. The hours past, scenery changed from lush to sparse and then to desolate, sand stretched for miles now, tumbleweed the only vegetation, till finally they turn off the main highway, oil rigs marked the horizon, soon they are passing these huge dark fingers of steel, nodding pumps, filth, man`s scar on the clean desert, grubby groups of portable buildings fencing, rugged looking busy men, pickups, trucks, tanks and dust, a filthy choking cloying dust that hung in the air, and left a thick layer. More

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