I’ve always loved the feeling of the breeze on the tip of your nose. That kind of breeze that makes your eyes wince up. Disassociated, yet so present. Thoughts race:

“What do I want for lunch”

“That’s a nice car”

“Do I smell bad?”

Yet at the same time thoughts crawl:

“Why do they not understand me”

“When is she coming?”

“Why can’t they realize what I do?”

Freeways, back roads, side streets, and interstates. Anchors in my consciousness, it’s funny the breeze gives me something no person ever has. 

Clarity.