It’s not technically winter, but it feels like it. The snow swirls in the headlights, and the mix of salt and spray from fellow travellers need constant applications of washer fluid. Further on no one’s left on the road I’m driving. It’s dark, it’s isolating, cold, and the air from the car’s defroster is drying out my eyes. I have to keep blinking. There’s nothing beyond my car but dark shapes of trees and looming rock from the Canadian shield. I need to stop for coffee. It’s late, and I just want to be at my destination. Fuck the saying that it’s the journey that matters. How much longer?
A Canadian highway on a winter night
Dispatches from Obscurity 