I...I.......I sped ROUND the corner!

We don't have time. We don't have enough time. Why are we watering the plants? We will never have time. There's a time for everything. A time to be born, a time to die, a time for nothing.

We've been in this car for hours on end, driving, slowly. We've been staring out this same window into the emptiness on the outside, the lifeless green bushes passing by, passing, slowly, slower, slow...slow. Are we there yet? This road ahead is endless and amoebic, we turn so often our heads hurt, pounding against the rocks of our craniums. Each tasking breath we let go of, each we take in...out...in...out...in...out...in...STOP! We forget to breathe as we swerve the sharp corner, the wheels scream like excited girls. Are we there yet? There is a pothole as large as a beer belly. We sink into it and instantly take off like an airplane, into the dusty air. We've never done this before. Are we there yet? We cough loudly, the sand is in our ears. Are we dead yet?

There is a battered, green billboard on the side of the road. We clean the specks off our specs to read it, but someone else reads it first. We're too late. Always late. Always too late.

"Welcome," they read, "to the beginning of a long journey."