The back roads that Josh Farrow takes us down are riddled with issues. They demand your apprehension. They should not be traveled without someone familiar with them holding your hand. These are areas that you should be careful with, though if you're there in the first place - if you've allowed yourself to be brought to such places - you've made some decisions that you cannot come back from. You are walking past the teeth on both sides. As a matter of fact, you stepped over a row of them right there at the turn-off, before everything was so pitch black that the flashlights were necessary.
You're walking down the middle of the tongue and at some undetermined point, there will be a drop off and you'll either be gone or you'll flip it and head back in the direction that you came. The folks that you see on the sides of these roads just watch you pass without saying a thing, just as a man watering his dead lawn would as you went by in a hurry in a car. He'd care little, but would look anyway and contemplate where you might be headed, just for the quickest of minutes before dismissing its unimportance. They know that it doesn't matter. Wherever you're headed is your business and you must be responsible for what you're doing.
Farrow makes us hear chains rattling. He puts the devil in our ear and he makes the fellow sound like he might be a roommate, someone who's going to ask for our share of the rent come the first of the month. The shuffle step that we think we hear gaining on us might actually be in front of us. We might be walking right toward it instead of doing what we'd like to. He creates these stories where we're very much unclear about how it's going to work itself out - who is going to prevail. We just keep walking.
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