Often I've walked along the apex of a mesmerizing curve situated beside the vast spread of turquoise. Surrounded by organic greenery, turning and sloping down to god knows where. Looking at the abraded tread marks on sedimented gravel, I've imagined right there a car, sliding just past me. So close that I could touch it. So close it almost blew me away. Literally. I hear the explosion above the pistons as they try to imitate the execution of a punch. I smell the smoke coming out of the cooked tires as it drifts further away towards the end of what my vision can measure. I watch my figment of imagination disappear. It was never there, but I felt it all. I smile to myself as I try to visualize that from the driver's point of view.
One day . . .