The sun was descending into the clouds, marking the end of day-dreams and the start of night-reveries. I stopped once on my journey, wanting to check my face against the glass to make sure I did not appear as tuckered I felt, though it made no sense in the darkness why my fellow drivers would ever find me captivating enough to divert their attention from the glare of headlights against the road.

The stop was abandoned, save for a box-shaped car that looked like it had traveled from an antiquated time. I walked into another world. Covering the walls were sketches, designs, and words, and from the walls hung permanent markers attached to strings. The only section that was legible was a piece of paper near the entrance, which read, “You came to rest, but your mind is not quiet. Eliminate the bees; share the buzzing.”

I tore a Sharpie off the thread and scribbled the only thing that seemed appropriate: What an incredible thing it is to be alive.