cody co.

Some folks chase things. Some run from ‘em. Others just keep moving.

The wind doesn’t ask any questions. The sun burns, the dust stings, and the horizon just keeps pulling. No map, no reason — just the hum beneath of a machine grasping at something faster than silence.

Spring’s close now. Mindless of the rain. You can smell it on the wind. Eyes up — motorcycles are coming.

A big TU for JT.