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When the road goes from asphalt to crushed gravel to dirt, the sensible person turns around. I keep on going. I'm heading for the place everyone has forgotten, and you can't find it on a paved highway. Sometimes, sadly, you can't find it at all. I discovered this on a recent evening with the sun hanging low and the pup licking the desert air. I'd latched onto a road that promised to take me nowhere, the place I most wanted to be. On this day, though, nowhere was somewhere I'm not supposed to be: an Indian reservation. As seductive and tempting as it was to keep on going, it felt wrong. I turned around. It's a bittersweet feeling to live beside a forbidden nation. But there is justice there as well. I'll remain content to gaze at those roads that stretch into nothingness and imagine all the nowheres I'll never go.

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The Road Beyond
April 2010