A road snakes and curls through the backwoods - gritty and rocky and pitted and rough. It’s aura is ancient and timeless and timeworn.
How many people have set their feet upon this dusty way? How many wheels of how many cars and bikes have cut their treads and tracks into this dirt?
Where were they going, and for what reason?
Simple, honest folk just trying to scrape out what little the land will yield? Bootleggers from bygone days plying their violent and illicit trade? Children experiencing their first taste of freedom and exploration, as they gallop off to wherever their imaginations will take them?
Or, perhaps lovers who simply want time and space to exist solely with one another?
These are the whispers and echoes one can’t help but perceive while wandering the overlooked - and oft-neglected - backwater byways of their world: Almost as if the wild and overgrown landscape seeks to impose its memories upon the subconscious; so that someone, somewhere will always remember.
If you enjoyed reading my Thoughts™, consider following the example of the great Johnny Granjero and become a patron of my writing.
Not really a story.
Not really an essay.
Not really either of those things, because it's poetry 😉