"For me there is a poesis, a poetics, around the trope of the road that is embedded within many life experiences of the people I've been close to."

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Evening had fallen. A rim of the young moon cleft the pale waste of sky line, the rim of a silver hoop embedded in grey sand: and the tide was flowing in fast to the land with a low whisper of her waves, islanding a few last figures in distant pools.

— James Joyce