Big Sur
August 2021
The woman in the driver's seat seemed to have control over her destiny. One with the highway and the heavy weight of the car beneath her as she watched the thundering motorcyclists ride faster, the great camper pilings at vista points, the dampened cliffs shyly appearing, the morning coastal breeze flying through all four windows which absorbed all her senses, all of her attention. As if in slow motion, she figured out the quintessential intersection: a returning illusion and a testimony to her life's stillness. While the redwoods were better left alone, her intentions had been far greater met when she caught the fog with her hands then opened them to find luck. All day she was idyllic, content, instantaneously parting ways from the old. She wondered with distant interest just how long the whole world would return from its sedated thinking—if not today, floating further away from it tomorrow.
