I like the bright side of the apocalypse: opportunity and rebirth. For better or worse, what you were and what you had are gone.
Time to start over.
Joe packed his bug-out-mobile with the necessary gear, food and seeds to survive and rebuild.
And he brought an acoustic guitar. Not because he can play it, but because he always wanted to learn.
Out on the road alone, who will hear your fingers stumble over strings or your voice crack?
And what better reason to sing the blues? Your whole world just fell apart.
He blows a smoke ring at a passing jay,
Takes a cold sip, and clears his throat: “How long?
How long’s the road I am travelin’ on?”
Eyes closed, sprawled in the bucket seat. “How long
Before anyone hears my little song?”
A glint in the trees, unseen. Dressed in fleece
Brown and green, hair hanging around his face,
A man perched on a branch with field-glasses
Scratches his beard and studies the forest,
The road, the camels, the candy Jaguar.
From Cathartes Aura on the Road from Nowhere, Chapter One, Verse Ten.