i stopped at a gas station. Full of men, every single one dressed in Carhart, overalls, flannel shirts, work boots, baseball caps, all buying coffee and Copenhagen. It was like those cowboy movies where someone walks in the bar and the music stops and everyone turns. Bright blue floofy jacket, multicolor missing-fingertip gloves, pink shoelaces, nooooo problem. I didn't get a creepy vibe, but i still flipped my aggie ring over to the other hand inside out ---> someone is waiting for me, someone will know if I'm missing.
West Virginia was beautiful in a dark, oppressed kinda way.
The hills towering and close together, the canyons so deep you couldn't see the bottom from the road. And teeny houses precariously stuck on the sides of these huge hills with no evidence of a road.
The colors of West Virginia seemed so dark and stained. Sunshine would seem misplaced. Poverty. Pockets of houses between hills, with the occasional grocery store, often times a train running thru the middle of town. Ramshackle. Not the best state for seasonal affect disorder.
But still, the landscape was incredible.
Charleston had lots of bridges. Everywhere. I guess the city was too hilly for a continuous network of landlaid roads. The bridges seemed to go this way and that way and over that one and across over there, as if the city was suspended in mid-air.
Korean and VietNam memorial near the capitol.
The Capitol.
A smell.
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