Miles feel shorter at 90mph. Or maybe time means something different here. I could stop at any point along this highway and shoot for hours. And yet there is magic in racing through the changing colors into new light, always having the camera close at hand, ready to seize images in a split second that becomes a memory.
It is just after sunrise and I sit in a hotel in Idaho, looking through the images I was too tired to be excited by last night. Each shot brings back memories of the day before, but other thoughts as well. Each reminds me of other road trips, other drives through the rough beauty of the gorge, other sunsets along other highways. Is this how the entire journey will be, a remembrance as well as a rebirth? Or, once I leave behind the diffused light of overcast skies and the states I traversed in another life, will I feel the freedom of the desert wind without the strings of past attachments? Are these memories a tether or a trap?
One thing that will not change - I am still lulled into bliss by the movement of just driving.