Drive
We went out driving last night.
We started with a destination, but abandoned it shortly after our departure.
We drove west, then south. Our silence eventually broke into conversation. The cloudy sky was waiting to drop a fog over us. The smell of fresh mushrooms filled the air. A mist rose from the earth, and broke into a ceiling that covered the road and the mushroom houses. The quartz lights illuminated the improbable roof over our heads, transforming the road into an eerie tunnel through the world.
We turned north. We talked about change. The trees pushed through the ground, sending branches reaching for the sky, their skeletal organic forms lit by the headlights refracting through the fog. It gave the impression of being underground; the real world was on the other side of the soil. We drove through the opaque substance into which the treetops had rooted themselves.
We headed east. The road/tunnel began to wind its way over the wooded hills. The woods broke into open fields, infinite in the shrouded night. Our origin became our destination. Through some inexplicable function of the mind, we were able to navigate the impermeable underground that surrounded us and find our way back home.
We started with a destination, but abandoned it shortly after our departure.
We drove west, then south. Our silence eventually broke into conversation. The cloudy sky was waiting to drop a fog over us. The smell of fresh mushrooms filled the air. A mist rose from the earth, and broke into a ceiling that covered the road and the mushroom houses. The quartz lights illuminated the improbable roof over our heads, transforming the road into an eerie tunnel through the world.
We turned north. We talked about change. The trees pushed through the ground, sending branches reaching for the sky, their skeletal organic forms lit by the headlights refracting through the fog. It gave the impression of being underground; the real world was on the other side of the soil. We drove through the opaque substance into which the treetops had rooted themselves.
We headed east. The road/tunnel began to wind its way over the wooded hills. The woods broke into open fields, infinite in the shrouded night. Our origin became our destination. Through some inexplicable function of the mind, we were able to navigate the impermeable underground that surrounded us and find our way back home.