Part one:
I wake up. Everything's still kinda quiet. Except the highway. I've slept next to a high way since as long a I can remember. Has everyone? How far do you have to be to escape the endless trickle of passengers and their escorts tumbling down the great divide of one way or the other, compressing and condensing the magnitude and grandeur of the space between them? I like it that way. Always wondering who's face has crossed across your conscious space, that has drifted to the back of your brain. How alike are they to the innumerable faces you pass in the midst of all manner of journeys. Yours is as irrelevant to them as theirs is to you and yet for a split second, you both simultaneously glance over at the precise moment and you know, there's gotta be something more than this.