where I come from.
Sometimes I wonder what the 5-year old version of me would think of the 30-year old version. And if she’d want to have a picnic with me, with the woman I’ve become. I wonder if I’m the type of big kid she’d want to go for a swing with, or play tag with, or draw with, even though we don’t know how. Well, maybe I don’t know how to draw, but the 5 year old me doesn’t know that she doesn’t know...
And on the horizon began appearing these massive, white, cylindrical structures. Small at first, but with the promise of something large and powerful. Something entirely different than compact, convenient Brooklyn. One went by. Then two, maybe three. My jaw agape, my heart scrunched up in the face of a thing so glorious, I felt the wheels of my car turn and drive right up to one. These...
I don't fuck much with the past, but I fuck plenty...
Route 177. Flint Hills, Kansas.
fields of gold.
Tallgrass Prairie National Preserve. Strong City, Kansas.
Anonymous asked: how is life on the outside? :)