The course and straight roads of moral exploration have reached a dead end. The friction was massive.
The wheels flamed and emitted the scent of fire. I sat and saw, to the right and to the left, as the world repeated itself, from railing to railing, farm to farm, town to town, and river to river.
It’s time I move laterally and slide through the mud into the farms. It’s time I move laterally into a town and lay my feet on the greenest of grass, where mice dig up the soil, scuttle through holes, and reach a garden on the other side. Where a sneaking dog strolls in and pees on that very grass.
Someday, I will return to the course and to the roads, for the last ride, knowing that I know those farms, those towns, and those rivers.