There's busted glass and garbage on the sidewalks of the town I find myself in. It's a fitting metaphor for the town itself - broken, used up, no longer relevant. The only reason the town exists at all is the fact that it's the county seat. There's nothing here to drive the economy - so it sits like the slowly decaying car in our driveway.
The town has a long history. Passing by a graveyard, I notice the birth dates of the deceased - 1877, 1852, 1841...What was once a thriving town - trying to grow into a small city - is now a sore refuge for the disabled, the desperate, the dying.
I came here seeking asylum from my responsibilities. I am now bereft of any way of leaving. I am safe - for now...
