By:WeiJorE

Alone a man walks toward God’s beauty.  His long morning shadow pointing down the road to a town, and just past that the mountains.  Unkept hair wrapped in a ponytail, a machete slung over his shoulder, he has no map, he does however have a soul.  A black dot appears on the sun and drives at his back.  Soon he hears the rushing of air and the wirr of nobby tires that indicates a truck will presumably pass him by.  The sound of the tires gets lower in pitch followed by a cacophony of flying gravel as the car pulls in behind him.  Through the swirly dust, the driver waives him to get in.  He walks quickly, throws his large backpack in the bed, and smiling, he climbs in.