Keep driving

Someone once told me there’s a small part of you that doesn’t return home with you after each trip. Here, with the tank still half full but almost back in town, I understood. I turned around and drove back up the road, past the shops with gasoline and chips, the narrow wooden bridges across the Mekong. The sun was going down and the Honda was purring happily, turning fuel into motion, harmonious entropy.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *