I keep listening to the one song I have from Boards of Canada's Trans-Canada Highway album on my MP3 player, over and over and over again. Thinking about everything, yet thinking about nothing. Knowing I've now left it all behind in the best way I know how, and now I can move on forward. I write this:
"More smoke hangs in the distance. One plume after another on the farmland we pass. Fires.
And a trail of dust follows the long truck zooming along down the gravel sideroad, the way an airplane does, way up in the sky -- where the terrestial particles of dirt are headed.
On a day like today everything looks so curious: the leafless trees stretched out in a perfect line -- to protect families from the wind; the barbed wire fence posts sticking out just every which way; old gray barns collapse in on themselves. Trans-Canada Highway.
Scooting past good little residential enclaves and modern cropland, on our way through it all -- into the future. I just want to soak it all in -- I don't even want to write this. We're catching up to and passing a steady CP Rail train. Heading towards the Pacific like us. Like me, anyways.
One of the two kids riding along the ditch on the side of the road on motorbikes pops a wheelie for us. A brown horse collapses assfirst in the slough while a white one paws in the muck. An oncoming Pepsi truck seems to dance in the sun glistening off its deep blue.
For our part, we're just looking on out at the two solid lines and a dashed one in the centre -- they keep going on all the way to the horizon."
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