Three days of traveling, but the headwinds of my self are strong. Through the Lost Coast and down the Trinity Range to the heat of the Napa Valley I am tracked – scented and hunted by the baying of need.
There are not enough miles of road, not enough ocean views, cheap Chinese meals, Indian motels, or inns by the sea to take me away from me.
But it doesn’t matter how hard you run or are chased. The pace is always just enough so that a moment’s pause will overwhelm you.
Looking into the headwinds of creation streaming up the Stanislaus Valley, pine-scented nothingness pours over me, over care, and time.