I borrow the title from the Phil Collin's classic :-).
I recently drove about 1300 kms and about 27 hrs in a span of 3 living days. Driving clears my mind. But as it clears the mind, it also brings to the foreground long-suppressed emotions, clarity, and wisdom. And then it becomes a duel between my urban self which is carefully caricatured versus my raw self which is just me.
Travel especially long-haul flights or long drives always upset my tip-toe balance. And it feels like (almost always) that the house that Jack built might come crashing down.
Almost always I tell myself, that maybe next time I should not undertake these long drives, but I know it's a drug that I need to get high on.
It's my urban meditation.
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