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I had a crate of clementines under my arm and not much more. A t-shirt and a dust road to call my own. As I stood there, in the middle of nowhere, I had no idea where I was, but it didn’t matter, I tried to capture even a sliver of what I felt. Freedom is a frequently overused word, it describes far too many emotions in far too little detail. Loneliness is too closely associated with saddness. Alive. Cut off. It was delicious. A feeling so thick in the air I could taste and touch and smell and see it in the dusty, plain air before me. And then it hurt, that beautiful feeling stabbed me in the gut like a wrenching knife, because I knew, I knew no matter how hard I tried to describe it, capture it with my inadequate words, I would never accomplish more than to strangle it. And then it was gone. I had a crate of clementines under my arm, suddenly worth much more.

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