Today was the first really hot day of the year. When I was on the bus I opened the window, something I hadn't done since last summer. A sensational feeling overcame me once I felt the wind blowing on my face. It was like Proust biting into a madeleine; once I felt it my mind became flooded with pleasant memories; memories of being on the road, out in the middle of nowhere, where the streets have no name, the land seems eternal, and the miasma of the city is far away. So many times have I felt that. It's a feeling that can best be described with one word, an overused one that has retained its power through the centuries: freedom. How I longed to be out in the country when I was on that bus. To feel that sensation again, with the long road ahead, the fields flying by, and every inch of the land threading itself into my heart, would bring me the greatest pleasure. It is the ultimate freedom.
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