lemonviolence

So I am a Monrovian now. And I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about it. From afar, this place held so much promise. The reality has been considerably different. I am drowning in the bigness of this place. I can drive ten minutes in any direction and never actually leave. It is a giant grid of urbanity, and I am speck within it--atomically small, motionless, trapped.

At moments like this, I tend to step backward in time, revisit the emotional terrain of happier days. It might seem odd that such a trip would take me to a heap of scrap metal on a lonely street in Alliance, Nebraska. But so it is, and so am I.