I love to drive at
night.... radio low...window down... the wind playing through my hair, twisting
it and blowing it caressingly across my face, my hand gripping the wheel
gently, but with an underlying firmness as my eyes are ever-scanning the dark
for any impending possibility of calamity in my moonswept surroundings.
I love it. It gives me a chance to clear my head.
Sometimes I upturn my hand and let it slip out through the open window, turning it palm downwards, then up again fluidly, enjoying the feel of the cool night air slipping like water across my fingers as my car sails on down the darkened street, caught only occasionally in a sudden burst of streetlamp in the otherwise ebony-tinted, slumbering desert landscape I've known most of my life.
Sometimes I sing with the radio, sometimes not. Sometimes I listen to the cacophony of ideas and emotions whirling and raging around in my head, sometimes not.
Sometimes... you just need to let go, and drive.
I love it. It gives me a chance to clear my head.
Sometimes I upturn my hand and let it slip out through the open window, turning it palm downwards, then up again fluidly, enjoying the feel of the cool night air slipping like water across my fingers as my car sails on down the darkened street, caught only occasionally in a sudden burst of streetlamp in the otherwise ebony-tinted, slumbering desert landscape I've known most of my life.
Sometimes I sing with the radio, sometimes not. Sometimes I listen to the cacophony of ideas and emotions whirling and raging around in my head, sometimes not.
Sometimes... you just need to let go, and drive.
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