My Diving Bell
A WYOMING TRAVELOGUE IN ONE ACT Driving all night into the heart of Wyoming, I finally pulled the rental car off the road to rest. I reclined the seat but quickly sat back up, exhausted but unable to sleep. Peeking out the windows of this peculiar car, the world had suddenly changed, refocussed through these strange, little frames, their inset into the body of the automobile making them appear as awkward maritime port-holes. Lost in a sleepless haze, the metaphor seemed appropriate. It is how we travel, always peeking through a window into another world that is not completely ours, those foreign places we pass by at 65 mph, rapid-fire zoo exhibits, places we imagine as much as we experience.