Ah the road! The road is so clear and yet it hides a multitude of sins. That there be a great grey ribbon of gravelly steel connecting us is testament to our naivety as people and security for a homesick Dad and probably the start of a great new song, poem or painting. But none of us has time and how dare my life not be dull. I love the road. I love the road in New Zealand.
The Americans developed a groovy ballpoint that could write upside down at zero gravity in space - the Russians used a pencil.
Oh good Lord I am in a state of such longing. The countryside sings, and with no mourning in her light. You are constant when all else is roadkill. I am at home moving between towns with a new song in my heart and a spring in my step.