A lucky man stood at the top of Kinney Road tonight, the wind blowing so hard he could hardly keep his feet, and struggled to keep the camera still. His hat blew off and he closed his eyes and felt the wind wrap itself around him and race off down the hill, to the cows below. Here he thought his life was over, and he gave it away to other people, and hid behind a fortress he called a farm and today he waited for the sun to peek out and looked out at his truck, idling, the woman he loved sitting in the front seat sketching, and thought what a lucky man he was. Kinney Road was his witness.