Scale these arterial walls

Have I mentioned how much I love driving? Open country, in some traffic, fast, slow, I just love it. I may be incurably inane, and I wouldn't want to do it permanently as my job, but I love driving. I didn't realize how much I missed it, and now I hope I don't miss it when I go back in four days.

I change as much as I ever did before, and I stay the same as much as I ever did before. I've come to view these things not so much as changes, but becoming even more myself. I'm the same guy I was before, just moreso. Frustration, as this concept is probably another one of these things that I grok and can't really explain to people. It's all about the tender years, the fire, the refining. It's all about that which I try to open my lungs to more and more each day. It's about me becoming as dust, and letting breath move me again. It's about the final words before my death. It's nothing less and nothing more than the incomprehensibility of what I am is preparing me for in the future. As I look back, as I talk to new and old friends, I realize that I hold on, I need to let go, and as I let go, I need to hold on.

I leave in four days. I don't as yet know what I will leave behind, and what I will gain. Here we go.