Sweet Home
We were barreling west on interstate roads with dried out enjoyable looks crusted on all of our faces. The faint yet distinguishable outlines of smiles could hardly be avoided when gazing for a few seconds over these battle hardened visages. The Bronco made a glorious sound with every inch in descent from the Eastern Continental Divide that lead us to believe we were far out of the freedom and even closer to the madness.
I want to be as big as a mountain. I want to fly as high as the sun. I want to know what the rent's like in Heaven. I want to go where the river flows.