an early morning bus ride from santa cruz to san jose
the sun breaks through as we drive on the winding road
through the santa cruz mountains
highway 17 – this road is beginning to feel familiar
i’ve come to known its pace and curves
all of a sudden i think of the last time i will take this road,
to go home. where that exactely is, has become less clear.
there’s something nice about these cheapy US domestic flights
– despite the fact that every time i took one they are entirely full
and one gets candy bars as “food”, and it has little to do with
the SouthWest staff cracking not-so-funny jokes
(“there are 50 ways to leave your lover but only 6 to leave this aircraft…”).
the flight routes are lower, or the sky is more open,
so it’s the forth or fifth time that i get to see
the massive Rocky Mountains and the Great Plains
(peaks, snow, canyons, rivers, roads, fields, small settlements…),
mesmerizing. i stare and stare and imagine all kinds of stories
of lives down there, now and in past times.
it’s enchanting to see the country like this.