Waterstone Maninni Images
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I remember driving at night on western back roads that run on forever; the night air is still and cold as you cycle the thermostat between heat and cold. You're travel weary -- the loneliness you feel when your only companion is the rolling of your tires and the one fading station you can barely catch carries Reverend Ike.
You haven't seen another car for hours; mesas and buttes replace towns and gas stations. The night sky slowly hardens into mountains; a distant yellow glow nestles in their lap. The Six of Swords has always meant sadness and excitement to me. The sadness of leaving something known -- and the excitment of approaching something new.
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