There are no signs pointing out happiness on this road. This road is made up as I go along. It’s not here, not there. I’ve tried to find it in a map book; they’re still scrambling to update their latest edition, or so they say. It’s a gravel road. The pebbles crunch beneath my feet. The sun beats down unrelentingly but the way ahead is unlit. There’s a speed limit but there’s no one crouched in the bushes monitoring it. I’m a little behind on it. Okay, I’m a lot behind on the speed limit. But no one’s watching. It’s a gravel road straddling the Tropic of Nowherecorn and it’s desolate except for the idea of it.
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Nooj