How many times have I stood at the crossroads, staring down one dust road after another, each as apparently featureless and yet fraught with hazard as the others, a song in my heart, a thousand fears in my mind, the devil grinning like a food-sick toddler behind me, heaven nudging me gently enough that I almost believe I make all my own choices?
I can’t give you a number but I know which of those times I walked the right road and which are the journeys I most regret. Footsteps become moments as actions become years. Even now, always just as bewildered, I am still prone to the dust road, thousand yard stare. I’ve seen things, man. Roads and dust, mostly.
A lie. That last statement. I’ve seen so much that now and then it all feels too much. Yet still I hanker for more, still my Romany soul wants to walk unfamiliar paths, breathe unknown pollens and pollutions, the devil vomiting like a drunk child behind me, heaven nudging me gently enough that I continue to believe I make all my own choices.