There is nothing more beautiful than two good friends sitting without words, ensconsed by the music of the car and of the night, windows down and arms outstretched to welcome the all-encompassing summer dark.

Because when the wind rises up and wraps around your fingers and you feel that connection with your car and the music and the night and the other person playing the wind through her fingers you feel the wind may at any point billow up beneath your feathers and carry you off into the oblivion that exists beyond the reach of your failing headlights.

There is little in this world I love more than
summer nights.

ink :: graphite