A brisk wind blew through the car door window as we cruised down the motorway at a pretty even 56 miles per hour. I could smell the smell of food packaging that permeated the interior of the car and I examined the mole on my left elbow. The hum of the highway was soothing me to sleep while the sun was setting on Someplace, USA.
Hang my curtain high. Scrapped, toasted and busted, but definitely not wasted. Scream all you like, just make sure to direct that scream inward because it's important for you to hear yourself scream. You've got to understand it.
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