I think it was on Kinney Road that I came out of hiding in some way, and began the process of coming to grips with my own life, and some of the things I had been hiding from for so long. I have come a long way since that first cold and black night on Kinney Road last winter, and one of the many things I love about this road is how the light and sky are so different every time I look at them. It seems like a different place. The families on the road know me know, and wave when I pull over and set up the tripod and rush up and down for the right angle. I appreciate them.
   I am not a stranger any more, but that strange man with the dog who is always pulling over and looking up at the sky, seeing the road for the first time every time I drove on it. It is like creation, I think,  each time.
  Hiding isn’t good, I think. It poisons and stifles the soul, and corrupts love and feeling. Like fear, I have come to see it as a warning. It is a waste of time.