Time stops in the faint glow of a headlight pool on a darkened back highway. Thoughts separated blur together into one as the white lines become a vanishing smudge. A late night truck stop café, one truck, one car, and the eerie red glow of a neon arrow.
More often than not, they’re empty, abandoned. Here and there, miles apart, an empty darkened gas station, diner, bus station, or motel sits deserted roadside. At night they appear as shapeless silhouettes, first terrifying, then sad eyed and alone at the edges of the headlight’s reach. Closer to the interstate, the rudimentary geometry of unlit gas station signs reach to the night sky, rusted and weather-faded blank. Too near to the next major exit to survive the coming of the fuel efficiency era, their attached building sits empty, parking lot over grown, a disappearing blur in the mirror.
Farther out the silhouettes of trees, the wide horizon of empty fields, here and there a flash of nocturnal eyes roadside, just out of sight, watching. An occasional ghostly light in the otherwise inky surroundings, the purple sky, the infinite darkness and the silence of the universe staring back.
Side note: Things have been heavy around here lately, thus the long break between writings. I’m still writing. I’m still riding. I just wasn’t posting as often. The above was written a month ago, albeit it’s only a very small section of a much longer piece. Large sections were deemed too personal and chopped out. The photos are from an ongoing night series. I’ll be back to regular posting again for the foreseeable future.