Those unreachable mountain,thunderheads massing,the pop-up orchards end instant rocks,

And the grey track unspooling beneath our squealing tyrs . However fast I drive, my thumbs bruises in the controls, we shall never reach it, that dream of an horizon, a vanishing point of perfect cities end oceans cinema-blue. I am learning the dynamics of this illusion I turn to you between checkpoints, ask about the people you've lost, share my hope a finishing line beyond this stalled traffic.

I accelerate past the empty fields end we play the oldest cliches. Time is against us and the road is unforgiving as hell.

Thank you..