For a gypsy like me, Jack Kerouac's "On the Road" is a must-read book. I have been down many roads off many highways (the best being "anywhere" roads). Some places I flew through so fast I have no memory of being there save for finding an oddball negative floating among some familiar ones. There was a time when I would stop anywhere a piece of tin caught the sun just right or if the grayness of the day required a notation. Something must have caught my eye here. It still does. It also makes me wonder - just where was this place? Had I drank too much tequila?
