Salad Days

Maybe it was seventeen years ago. I was running 140 kph on a limit of Perryville that was for no more than 104, windows down, “Wish You Were Here” blazing on the stereo of a silent car, out to Caledonia. But like the album, there was no joy in my heart; this was a belated farewell to a state I’d loved and lost. In a few months, I’d be in New Hampshire for gods know what. This space — openness onto nowhere in all directions was not theirs. The sun opened vistas of remarkable majesty, mingled with the distinct odor of freshly mown hay, cow and horse shit.

I believe it was around 13.00 when I thought, “maybe I should never leave.”

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~ by Benji on 17 FriAmerica/Los_Angeles2018-08-03T21:02:56-07:00America/Los_Angeles08bAmerica/Los_AngelesFri, 03 Aug 2018 21:02:56 -0700 2017.

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