Gone To The Country

Gone to the country, escaping the city - the clogged arteries and the crowded veins, the network choked, modern roads. 

You know, if it's not the tourists, (visitors to the inner suburbs) it's the traffic they create. And those fucking cafe tables clogging the footpath. Over run suburbs with sightseers. 

Slipping away on a wave of enthusiasm, shaking off the city's cynicism for the fresh, open spaces and the crystal clear air of rolling paddocks as far as the eye can see. Breath it in, taste its sweetness.

I love it when I hit the Calder highway, just after the airport turn off, it signals the shaking off the city and heading out into the big, open planes. Peace is in sight, calm and wonder beckon. Whoosh and I am away.

Run away, run away.

Actually, it is run to, run to.

Run quickly to.