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Today I gripped the steering wheel, fisted the gear shift, tapping the pedals across ancient mountain ranges, endless road.

How the threads of the fabric of our lives unravel, fragment and recompose themselves by a great hand that refashions it with every occurrence.

It all looks the same but it all feels different as I move along slice across and pass through forever air and sky. I am far away from it, unconnected or loosely flimsily so, feeling forlorn yet free.

Such an obsession with freedom, yet from the umbilical chord on, we are taught it is all about ties.

My thoughts flounder, flip and flop. The wind whipping my hair and the monotonous lulling sound of the motor makes for hazy lazy reflection. Something is trying to form, but it is fuzzy and to grasp it requires far more effort and energy than I am willing to expend.

The wind whisks it out the window. Good riddance!

I want to go! Put pedal to the metal follow Kerouac and the gulls. Be tossed about by the wind until I too take flight.

Leave it all below, leave it all behind.

Photo by Dom J

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