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musings

Keep Driving

Sometimes I just want to drive and keep driving to the end of the world. I drive so fast, so hard, that I am convinced that if a cliff opened right up in front of me I would drive over the space, over the chasm, and I would reach the other side if the other side existed. In front of me other cars are still life objects, just obstacles, construction cones, things to be swerved and slalomed around, but they can’t touch me – I won’t let them, I’m too fast, too clean, too focused.

And behind me, behind me is the nothingness of darkness. The lights can’t catch up to me, there’s nothing but black there, nothing of anything that I’m running from, I’m hiding from, I’m getting away from. My life can’t catch me; no one can, nothing can.

I am free. At a hundred miles an hour, I am free.

I just want to stay free.

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About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

April 2013
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