Every Days a moment of clarity; no everyday is an opportunity to discover. The car probably never moves; this man is probably the pied piper of all our earthly ambitions. The Travel Drive sinks its teeth into our data and captures its essence. I don’t know where he’s gone, but I hope it’s somewhere. Though wouldn’t it be incredible if he takes from those more well versed in the art of travel and plasters their archival like pictures on his stagnant vehicle and revels in onlooker curiosity?
Which ever end of the spectrum he finds himself on I can guarantee it’s an interesting one. Okay maybe I can’t, but who cares it’s good to think in away that gives off wonderment sometimes. I mean this practically gets me through the train ride and monotonous calls and the feelings of Kurt cobaining. What am I doing this isn’t about Maurice; this is about that man and his moment in time. His encapsulated moment in time. All that data stored in one location. His Travel drive.