I’ve passed countless hours on the road, so many that trying to corner my thoughts on this subject is slippery business. I’ve seen rainbows, moonbeams, blood smeared on asphalt, unrecognizable metal and carrion, towns without name, cities without faces, entropy in wheat fields, the erection of man’s progress, his folly.

I’ve run for my life, I’ve stopped the world, I’ve cried until I couldn’t breathe, I’ve smiled at simple presentations that only a slip of crushed stone could throw up for the eyes to take in.

The road accepts my syntax, lets me leave behind my choices. Forgets who I am.

Liminal spaces are so hard to find because they are everywhere.

We never leave our vehicle, we are always going somewhere, we are never where we were, we never return to a place, there is no way home.

You can certainly lose yourself.

Do.