Bach's Grand Trip

Tuesday, August 9, 2005

Due North

When I had reached my final destination, I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out where I had been or how I had arrived there. I had no memory of potholes--only--long, beautiful highways that seemed endless. I could not recall one single red light or stop sign, or ever slowing down at all, for... Sign in to see full entry.

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