1// A while back, on the road, a friend & I were trying to compare gulfs.

Urban to rural, for one; across oceans, for another; the cross-hatch matrix. The threshold to the neighborhood you felt uncomfortable driving though at sixteen. And the paths by which those transitions become at first manageable, then fluid, then recursively reduced until something inside you becomes either irrevocably liminal or elegantly Jacobian and, while you may not be sure which, either way they no longer register.


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