I borrowed my uncle’s truck in some alternate vision and we drove Pacific Highway. I couldn’t imagine the details of the location, except the cliffs and a wayward sun; you were smiling with ruby painted lips, and all that blonde hair being blown in a California wind. 384 more words
Tags » Pacific Highway
Route 101 took us North, out of the city and back in the car and the tent. Leaving San Francisco the mist swept in to the bay and hung over the top of the red iron that linked our journey over to Sausilito and beyond, as I craned my neck round I caught a glimpse of the place that my great grandfather has taken his boat from over to the city for work. 719 more words
It was August. Our skin was a darker bronze than it had been in years.
The heat of the day had begun to ease as the sun turned orange, taking control of the sky, leaving streaks of red across the horizon. 73 more words