home for two days and already itchy feet. i must move. i want to go.
last day i had the strongest desire to be sitting in a faded blue convertible, driving up Going-to-the-Sun road in Glacier National Park. i was there two years ago, minus the blue convertible. so perhaps this is just a part of me now reconnecting with the past self. a string is drawn in time, parting the years, and stacking those two separate moments together as two wooden beads on a string.
i wish to see the roads wind, and the country flee from underneath me. i wish to see all that i can be. and at the end of the day to come back home, to return.