Heavy clouds gather on the third day; a fitting end to this particular journey and indicative of the kind of turbulence that’s stirring in my heart. All I can think about are better days; like the kind I experienced as a kid–and perhaps, if I’m lucky, like those that are still to come. But the fact of the matter is, I’m realizing that trying to squeeze some happiness out of things that happened thirty years ago or hoping like hell for the turn of a friendly card somewhere down the road is a tough way to live.
Abandoned filling station, central NE.
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