I like your story very much, and I can see myself behind the wheel - or even sitting next to the driver. There's nothing but the miles and the car running together. Emptyness filled with running ahead. Always further. Welcome back to business.
It's a strange feeling, tugged in a car, with nothing else than driving. I find it very relaxing, HPY, sitting next to the driver (I can't drive myself).
A nice story! I was struck by a certain monotony of the Nordic landscapes, beautiful but as a French friend once said when we drove from Gothenburg to Sundsvall (some 1000 km) "always the same forests and lakes" one mile after the other! Somehow, that's also a good thing, a lot of land is available to everybody, not fenced like here in France! There are so many beautiful places here, but all private land remains very private and you cannot just stop anywhere for a small walk, picknick or whatever.
It certainly is a monotonic scene, Peter, but at the same time safe and familiar. And luckily there are lakes sometimes to look at! And the possibility to stop almost everywhere you yearn to.
Once again, Susu, you amaze me and leave me inspired by this fabulous short story. The idea of using Slide in this manner never occurred to me. I loved this so much, especially the build up of your love for the Driver followed with the unexpected, "That wasn't much, but it was something." What a fantastic twist! :D
Once, when I was in Canada, I took the train from Montreal to Toronto. It was late January. The landscape was mostly snow-covered fields, interrupted only by isolated red-roofed barns here and there. Once in a while, the sun would break, sneaking up from behind the tall pine trees to caress those of us who were lucky enough to be in the window seats. It wasn't much, but it was definitely something.
I believe it was something, Kenneth! There's something soothing in nothingness. Tha absolute tranquillity one can't find in the city streets. (and true, it can be also boring, if you are cityborn, like me, but in small bits it's ok)
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This is nice, warm and fanny! I love it. I'm sure you had a great time in your paradise :)
I had a great time, although the sun refused to shine and the storm reigned instead.
Paradise is always paradise, still.
I like your story very much, and I can see myself behind the wheel - or even sitting next to the driver. There's nothing but the miles and the car running together. Emptyness filled with running ahead. Always further.
Welcome back to business.
It's a strange feeling, tugged in a car, with nothing else than driving. I find it very relaxing, HPY, sitting next to the driver (I can't drive myself).
A nice story! I was struck by a certain monotony of the Nordic landscapes, beautiful but as a French friend once said when we drove from Gothenburg to Sundsvall (some 1000 km) "always the same forests and lakes" one mile after the other! Somehow, that's also a good thing, a lot of land is available to everybody, not fenced like here in France! There are so many beautiful places here, but all private land remains very private and you cannot just stop anywhere for a small walk, picknick or whatever.
It certainly is a monotonic scene, Peter, but at the same time safe and familiar. And luckily there are lakes sometimes to look at! And the possibility to stop almost everywhere you yearn to.
Once again, Susu, you amaze me and leave me inspired by this fabulous short story. The idea of using Slide in this manner never occurred to me. I loved this so much, especially the build up of your love for the Driver followed with the unexpected, "That wasn't much, but it was something." What a fantastic twist! :D
Well, we should be glad of every little bit, Mick:))
I was not quite satisfied with this slide, would have liked the texts in some other form, but can't have everything.
I enjoyed the ride alongside as well.
Once, when I was in Canada, I took the train from Montreal to Toronto. It was late January. The landscape was mostly snow-covered fields, interrupted only by isolated red-roofed barns here and there. Once in a while, the sun would break, sneaking up from behind the tall pine trees to caress those of us who were lucky enough to be in the window seats. It wasn't much, but it was definitely something.
I believe it was something, Kenneth! There's something soothing in nothingness. Tha absolute tranquillity one can't find in the city streets.
(and true, it can be also boring, if you are cityborn, like me, but in small bits it's ok)
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