The air is thick and moist, it hangs about me, wrapping its arms around my senses and I know that I am back.
The road was like quick, rippling waves today; bouncing and prodding us forward.
I feel the pull of it now, home; my hesitation replaced by anticipation.
Through a glass window I watch the world pass, catching clues that hint at the stories beyond.
The road is its own place when you are on it, but merely a passage from the outside.
Each vantage pining, maybe, for the other.
Mile by mile the world grows more familiar.
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