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  • Winding, curving, narrowing,
    more roller coaster than road,
    a thin, crunchy strand of tarmac
    like the autograph of the hills
    draped over the sharp hills and valleys of the land,
    Eerily empty, a silent painting, but with a promise at the end,
    A relic, a scribble, an adventure

    A young boy huddled in an empty room, many years ago
    clutching a small rusty matchbox car
    and pushing it through a maze of wooden blocks.
    left! right! left! right! look how how it goes!
    There would be no destination without the journey.

    Driving through the underbrush of James Trail
    gripping the wheel like a lunatic
    as the old car lurches from side to side to follow this insane scribble of asphalt
    that someone dripped over this forest trail many years ago
    left! right! left right! look how i go!
    And there it is, the house appearing from the trees
    like a sketch suddenly forming from a mass of tangled scribbles.

    (everlasting mystery of childhood adventure.)
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