74.

“Remember no thing for its own sake, but for the ghost of a future self incomprehensible in this moment. Speak no thing for its own sake, but for the ears and well-being of a child long forgotten.” The rain-starved hills welcomed his car, its steely purr and pinpoint turns, as a kind of quenching liquid, some rambling flow of life on the run. The radio show ended, the DJ’s prophetic words another snowdrift of white noise piling in space,  until the driver pulled over, kicked open, threw keys, walked off.

grh

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