We are driving down the word. We do not know where we are going. We do not know where we will end up. The road ahead is broken and littered with corpses of civilization. The end has occurred. No one knows exactly why or how, but America the beautiful and proud, is now America the broken. We are a roaming caravan of people searching for something, anything that is still out there for us. Things have not really changed, not for us anyway. We were the broken, marginalized people of the twenty-first century and we still are. We move through the apocalyptic landscape that is as devoid of hope as our own stony hearts. We were made for this world, for this landscape. It is something that a life of spectacular failure prepared us intimately for. We are seekers. We look for truth. We search for love and enlightenment. We are looking for all the things that cannot be seen glittering in the day time. There are no more states or even countries for that matter. There are people. People like use traveling the road as a crude tribe. We depend on each other. We care for each other as we always have. There is a fire burning in the distance and we move toward it, unsure, but also, unafraid.