sometimes insight alone does not help you to know what you think
no matter how apropos and informative it seems to be
I am remembering the vicious midday sun in August during the summer of 2001. I have been everywhere since that day; I have done everything since that day. So why do I still remember it, and why is it so important to me? Maybe some things are not subject to the ever-so-pedestrian “ravages of time.”
I want to reach down and touch a hot road again.
I want to be alone in the desert again, and to feel myself alive; I won’t always have the chance.