Some prose poetry courtesy of Jack Kerouac (1922-1969), from his classic novel
On the Road (which sadly young people don't seem to read anymore):
"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."
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