story, the amzette, thoughts


I remember visiting the city a lot while growing up. I’d always dread the Saturday morning car rides, only to later learn to love them because it meant an hour of listening to music in my own world.
Skipping the opportunity to sleep in, we would get all dressed up just to listen to a preacher and chat with old childhood friends, joined together by a common place and food before time swept us away.
On the way home I’d sleepily search for the Rainbow Tunnel with my siblings, slowly drifting off after the long day to the distance sounds of quiet murmurs and the crunching highway gravel.