We all carry other weights.
A move puts that into dollars and pounds, if not into perspective, if not clear. I moved from the bay to Taxes. The center of US. The edge of the civil war. The place that my father died. This is the center of not much else, yet it is the middle of nowhere. The place is big, but Texans think it bigger, much bigger than it is.
I am collecting my places. The first impression is that cities are big, wide open, unpopulated. This place could be being run by hidden machines, shuttling about between buildings. No one is on the street. Throughout most of the day nothing moves. This empty, open, unpopulated place hums to itself. Gently coming to you, filling all your ear, there is the sound of a machine running, whirring away throughout the entire peopless day.

Someday I’ll have to find that surrounding sound. Capture it. Make it surrender. Make it tell me what it has done to the people. Where has life gone in this big state of Taxes.