Last night I dreamt I went back again
Driving the secondary routes from Italy all night. Devouring miles, warm, alone, high on exhaustion. Light slowly cracks through the lower parts of the dark horizon.
Visions of the months gone by travel through my mind, lathered up with bubbly happiness. This is goodbye.
The engine purrs as the car steadily finds its way along the deserted roads.
Further, further into the endless emptiness. I want to pull over and get the little gas tank out to brew
coffee at the side of the road. I want to stall forever in the magic of this still Sunday morning.
What is this love, no, this lust I have for endless nighttime driving?
This invigorating sensation to own these miles, to own this desertion, to own this solitude.
As I approach Belgium I pull over to make coffee.
And then I see this…