I’ve spent many hours in cars and I have to say, very few of them have been spent with people I dislike. Travel is an amazing thing. I wish that I had pictures of Big Bear, and the fields of yellow flowers along the roadside. Or of the view of the lake from an empty dock, the wind as it picks up and cuts between coat buttons. I can’t take pictures of wind, and I can’t capture the cold as it sneaks against skin, or the way the chill disappears after descending down the mountain. These are things I only have memories of, and each time I think about it I adjust the story, I revise; the memory becomes less true than even a moment before. Memory is continual revision. I have pictures of here though, and here is where I am.
I just want to show you how beautiful it is. I want to share it- it is too large for myself alone.