When I'm driving alone and I get excited by the view I sometimes take a photo, which I highly don't recommend. But I can't help myself. With no one else there I feel like I have to capture the moment and press it between the pages of a book like it's a flower or something. The drive up the I-87 from New York towards the border twists and turns into come some beautiful postcards. The mountains appear up out of the distant highway and you think about your life and forget about all the terrible things this country produces. Hawks hover in the sky above and you realize you're traveling at an unnatural speed. Speeds all our ancestors could only dream of, and would attribute to gods. Put the phone down. Focus on the road.