It is all incredible, fantastic, and beautiful. All the time and always, in each instance and case, whatever the outcome, whatever the eventual reality. But the road is full of junk and debris, years of neglect and abuse. Cracks and crackheads, hitchers and hikers. Truckers and truckstops.
Don't taunt the young and decorated, she bites back. Looking for the money train, steaming through Europe, chugging through Asia. Like a modern day, war thirsty, Marco Polo. Selling missles for cash, getting paid for protection, slopping in the mud. And crossing the Hawaiian Pearl.
Take the lecture, write it down, wad it up, wrap it tightly with duct tape. Like a ball, almost. Then, take it and put it in a special place, one that can be remembered, back from where it came, where all shit comes from. This classroom will not be quiet, we will teach the teachers.