"The land goes on forever, flat as paper. It's no wonder flat-earthers still exist. In the middle of nowhere, you can watch the world stretch to the edge of your vision like the surface of some endless ocean. The entire landscape feels like it was leveled by a natural disaster ages ago, and nothing ever grew back. Nothing but parking lots, shopping plazas, and gated communities, each trying to out-grandiose the last."
"Before I could drive, my mom would drop me at a nearby school where a yellow bus picked up me and a few other scattered kids, delivering us to the Tri-Rail station. That was where the real journey began. Every morning, we waited with a small crowd of students and worn-out commuters, baking in the pale Florida sun. I'd stand far off to the side of the platform, puffing on the cigarette I'd swiped from my mom's pack."
"When the train finally pulled in with a hiss, I chose a window seat, pressed my head against the glass, and put on my headphones. I let my long, oily hair hide my face, trying to disappear into the music. The soundtrack changed depending on my mood. The Locust, Nine Inch Nails, Tool. But the ritual was the same: find the right track and loop it while the familiar world slipped past."
A life in South Florida is defined by a flat, seemingly endless landscape dominated by parking lots, strip malls, big-box stores, and gated communities that replaced natural growth. Daily travel distances are long: school required a yellow-bus transfer to a Tri-Rail station and a forty-five-minute train ride to West Palm Beach. Morning routines included waiting in the sun among commuters, smoking a pilfered cigarette, choosing a window seat, and looping music from bands like The Locust, Nine Inch Nails, and Tool to disappear into the ride. Even after gaining a driver’s license, social trips remained long and isolating.
Read at Advocate.com
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