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What is it about the magic of the open road? Is it the lure of the unknown, the highway’s yellow Morse code unspooling in the distance like Dorothy’s way to Oz? Is it the promise of exploring places we’ve never been, of lighting out for the territories and leaving our everyday selves behind? Or is it the joy of following a well-trodden path, of reassuring ourselves that this once-loved general store, goofy road sign or gnarled apple orchard has continued


This story is from Kinfolk Issue Seventeen

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