"The adult world, that place of dishonesty, deceit, unkindness, where people slaved, were hurt, compromised, beaten, defeated, where they died - than… - Bruce Springsteen

Now I been out in the desert, just doin' my time. Searchin' through the dust, lookin' for a sign. If there's a light up ahead well brother I don't know. But I got this fever burnin' in my soul. So let's take the good times as they go, And I'll meet you further on up the road.

The exit in a blaze of glory is bullshit.

When it rains, the moisture in the humid air blankets our town with the smell of damp coffee grounds wafting in from the Nescafé factory at the town’s eastern edge. I don’t like coffee but I like that smell. It’s comforting; it unites the town in a common sensory experience; it’s good industry, like the roaring rug mill that fills our ears, brings work and signals our town’s vitality. There is a place here — you can hear it, smell it — where people make lives, suffer pain, enjoy small pleasures, play baseball, die, make love, have kids, drink themselves drunk on spring nights and do their best to hold off the demons that seek to destroy us, our homes, our families, our town.