when i'm feeling lost i take to the road and the countryside. today i've let myself slip into a dangerous diet of parliments and ryan adams and so i fill up my car and head away. most of the snow has melted but there are enough icy drifts still left in the fields that the late afternoon sun hits the ground and dances across the endlessness in a thousand moving, sparkling pieces of light.
there are no answers out here, but the rolling hills and winter bare trees and the sweet sound of the music soothes my questions. i love driving through the country, especially the country as you head towards the South. there is as little as lovely as the hay and the rotting, decrepit wooden buildings, the rusty train bridges and the silver silos, the golden sun setting amidst the hills and trees.
i'm not sure of all the reasons for my travels and i don't think there will be answers when i drive out west, but movement and travel are cathartic. there are millions of tiny, beautiful moments and the glorious, open expanse of the road gives me hope for a glorious, open expanse of experience.
whatever i find when i drive across the country, i hope it leaves me with more of these tiny, beautiful moments to help fill up the dark spaces, the empty spaces, the questioning spaces. and i don't worry so much because when i finally turn around to head back the sun has dipped below the horizon and the clouds are flames of orange and purple behind me, the road is still kind and inviting, and i don't feel so lost.
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