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And then again, a few weeks later, there I found myself on a Pennsylvania turnpike cruisin' to The Doors, the late great Jim Morrison croonin' to the shadows of my mind, to the lost simple thoughts that have seemed so hard to find. The ones in the back that never get to surface. "Find your true life's purpose", I heard, and "TRY TO SET THE NIGHT ON FIRE!"
I'd slowly been coming back to me this trip, returning from somewhere older. Everywhere I went I had run into The Doors, beckoning in their subtle and obvious ways thru city street lights. "Better black than blue", they always seem to say. There's a great musical spirit as I careen thru the gentle Pocono Hills in the last hours of a late August day. The Sun is soft and guiding and in its great blatant purpose shining across the valley down below it leaves only shadow on magnificent green trees. And that's where I'm climbing out and up a new mountain; on my way now thru the lovely curving humps of all things, knowing. "Grow again."
The Sun shined thru a thin white giant cloud with a black horizontal stripe across its face.
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