- [x] Set timer for 20 minutes - [x] Start writing You might be driving to leave a place, or to go to a place. As he drove, he thought about that balance beam he was on. At some point, at the height of land of his journey, he stopped leaving his past, and started moving towards his future. When did that happen? Why did that happen? He had only thought of leaving. The last 20 miles of the trip were downhill. He had passed through the notch, tight cliffs on each side obscuring anything but the slag, the piles of broken and fallen stone that lined the bases of the ancient and worn mountains. Those piles are a sign that the rock is unstable, it will continue to fall, first in large chunks, then those chunks will be weathered. In another billion years, give or take, all of this will be sand. What changes had these mountains endured? How do they keep their form, when the forces of nature just keep working them. The rain, sun, snow and ice continuously punish, continuously wear, a little at a time, until there is nothing left. It doesn't seem that rain is strong enough to change granite, but given time, it just wears you out. The downhill ride brought him to a river. Twenty miles of gently meandering road, through decrepit pastures, landing him at a broad turn of the highway, over looking the river that keeps him from driving away infinitely. The skeleton of an old bridge, no longer contiguous, points with broken digits towards a land that cannot be reached. Some barriers are not crossable with your current situation, technology, resources, or constraints. His constraints, no longer time, were money and electricity. He only had a few miles left in the old battery, before he would have to find a place to charge. So here he was, at a bend in a river, overlooking something unknown but unachievable. He had fled, had made it through, but couldn't know what he was going to. The only thing to do was keep driving.