I have built a memorial to all the butterflies that I have slain in my fits of driving. My addiction to the road is real, for the black pavemennt and my silver truck sing a duet which facilitates contemplation and deep reflection...but at the cost of something precious. The only evidence of their brutal murder is what remains of their little bodies splattered onto the glass of my windshield. The only vengeance at their disposal is to clutter my view with their carcasses so that every one hundred miles I am forced to stop at an anonymous gas station and wash away their remains... so I am building a memorial out of their fallen wings and the echoes of their flight in order to remind us all that we are not alone when we travel the open road.