He loathes the city with all its bright lights, glitzy neon signs and noise that makes it impossible to think. It seems to demand every second of his attention, always screaming at him, “Focus on me and don’t you dare look away.” Yet, it has never offered him anything in exchange for his obedience, except a headache.
He is an open field of wildflowers, a tree lined ridge, the coolness of a slow moving creek, a dog at his side and a pole in his hand. He needs the softness of grass under his feet. He is a country boy.