Hitting the Road

Sometimes you’ve just got to get away.

It might be work, or just the grind of your daily routine, but some part of you needs to mix things up, get out of your life a bit, take a break from what you know, from yourself, and when those times come you’ve got to hit the road, and damn the consequences.

Life’s too short to deny yourself its fullness, after all. When you need to get away, don’t think.

Just go.

Or sometimes, you’ve killed somebody and you know your fingerprints are everywhere.

Those times you have to get away too…

The Road

Nothing exists but the road beneath my feet.

I thought I was in a town yesterday, thought I met people and that they were kind to me. I thought I spent the night, drank their wine and brought news from all parts of the countryside.

But there’s no town that I can see, all I have is the memory.

And memory’s a fickle thing, a thing of light and shadow, quick to deceive. Only a fool would trust it.

Not like the road.

The road is real, beneath me. It has weight.

The rest is nothing more than a dream.