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ravenna_c_tanMirrored from the latest entry in Daron's Guitar Chronicles.
I was driving in the late morning the next day, my sunglasses greasy from being worn so long and the Rocky Mountains trundling along on our left like the world’s longest skyline, when we pulled into Boulder, Colorado.
There were no tall buildings here, as if the mountains used up all the tallness. Office buildings were three stories at most, and spread out long with gleaming mirror windows as they were in suburban industrial parks everywhere. Strip malls. Houses with redwood decks. Kinko’s. Taco Bell. The sunlight seemed brighter, sharper, than it had in Texas, like the dry air was too thin to slow it down (which I suppose in a way it was). Otherwise, being a mile above sea level didn’t seem to make much difference.
When we had settled into yet another room with two double beds, a TV, and a desk, Bart lay back on the bed and said “Are you okay?”
