A Drive

One afternoon, driving around in this Midwestern town, I started down Broadway, but didn’t turn around. I drove down Broadway until it was no longer called Broadway, and then further, to where the straight road gave way to hills and haystacks and the sun fell and the sparse lights of farm houses in the distance lit up like fireflies, and I drove on, until the road narrowed and the cars dwindled and then it was just me, just me and open roads that stretched on forever. I stopped my car on the shoulder of a straight leg and felt myself sink into the empty space as one might sink into a warm bath, or a thick comforter, or death. And then I turned around.

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About A B

"There is all this untouched beauty, the light, the dark, both running through me." -Over The Rhine
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