Hunter's Lodge

Nearing the end of a productive and inspiring road trip, really only a long day's drive to get home, I have feelings of melancholy already and so I sit next to an old guy at the bar at the Hunter's Lodge, someone who looks like he's been around a lot, and ask him, "What the fuck?"

"Here's one way of doing it, and by the way my name's Zeno. You can continue on your way home, but each day travel only half of the distance between your departure point and your home. That way, you're still doing the right thing, but it will take much longer. 'Course, eventually you'll only be moving fractions of inches a day and it will look, to everyone around you, that you are actually home."

"But Zeno, if I never technically reach home, how can I get back to work?"

"Young man, after talking to you for a few minutes, I think I can say that you've never been closer than a few fractions of an inch to the real world anyway and you'll never notice the difference."

So, again, just like it always was, it is what it is. And, I'm the Americanist.