Standing in the wet grass, not too far from a foreign interstate. Looking at the low red moon. Feeling the unobstructed breeze hit me. Behind me, a hotel full of nomads on their way to somewhere else. I’m a temporary nomad myself. It’s strange how I find something wonderful in each new acre. Going back to the parking lot, I helped an older couple load their bags into their mammoth truck. People I will never see again. And a place that will soon be a memory, and on my way to hopefully make new ones. Love, X