The Long Way Home

Sky heavier than the land beneath it, the road curves wide across open moorland where nothing interrupts and nothing needs to. Guard rails follow the bend, white lines marking the way, and the whole landscape stretches further than it promises.

This is the route you take when time isn’t the point.

Clouds pile up like they’ve got nowhere else to be. The moor doesn’t rush. The road just keeps unfolding, and somewhere out there is home, but getting there isn’t what matters. It’s the in-between that holds you.

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