Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes, they call me on and on across the universe.

Driving alone is a good time to cry. You can sob as loud as you want, turn up the volume when an appropriate song comes on the radio and scream or whisper the words—depending on the type of crying. But you can never completely let yourself go (that kind of crying is best saved for a warm shower). You have a purpose, your eyes are on the road, and you are going somewhere: there’s something comforting in that.

I cry a lot in my car. Maybe it’s because there is so much time to think. I hate driving by the dead animals on the side of the road and whenever I pass a serious accident I think about how that might’ve been me or someone I know.

But this time I cried for my grandparents. I very well may never see her in her own home again and every bit of that is sad.

The appalachian mountains look different through eyes filled with water. Everything shimmers.

Title: The Beatles, Across the Universe