2001-08-01 & 2:50 p.m. : sixty miles or six hundred

all day i have been listening to this:

and it makes me think of driving and autumn and the way that the light flashes between the branches and over my eyes when driving down a treelined street, like miniature firecrackers. and think of how i've never really seen the leaves show themselves off in blazing autumn colors or how i've never smelled the leaves burning as the early sunset spreads across the sky.

and the song after makes think of two things:

standing outside of the airport, headphones on, thinking of the last time i was there, and letting the tears stream down my face.

and then it's like sped up home movies, silent and too fast smiles, and windchimes instead of voices, the record of a life i haven't had yet, of families that may or may not be mine, scratches across the film to make it real and the loneliness of all that.

everything far away, but somehow warm.

and for some reason i can't quite figure out, it feels something like hope.