My Mind Wandered Here

The sky is painted blue and is full of those cotton wool clouds, and the sun has reached its mid-morning place in the sky—the place where it’s so close that it’s too bright to look into at all and it throws its glare on every shiny surface. There’s a sense of peace in knowing that it has always been like this here; this is a place without time. That river has been here and will be, these trees have been and will be too, and fields stretch out for miles just as they always have and always will. There is a sense of infinity here, of everything and nothing, of progress that stopped at steam and never started again. The static draws me.

"And I said well, that's one thing we got."