Rained-on couches, kitchen counter seats and spying texts. Forever car passenger rides. Being grown-ups, being children, wrong ways on the highways. Still high from the city sky and supersaturated vermilion fields, pie and flower stands on the side of the road. Wholesome sweaters, documentary tears, midnight toast, an increasingly sore throat.
There's no come down, and pictures just wouldn't do any of it any justice at all.