Thanksgiving, Part I: The Goasis
For the Thanksgiving holiday, I traveled far: to Lorain in Northeastern Ohio.
Were I to write that the travel was uneventful, those words would lie in opposition to the truth. For the truth of the matter is this: such a sight I beheld on my journey to Lorain that, had I not laid eyes upon it again on my return, I would have thought it to be no more than fancy of the mind. Yet, though I am assured of its authenticity, its memory is like a dream to me.
The Goasis is more than a gas station; more than a rest stop; more than the steel and cement which compose its skin and innards. The Goasis is the pinacle of man's acheivement, riviling - ney, surpasing the great wonders of the world: a feat more daring than the Eiffel Tower; more breathtaking than the Taj Mahal; more ambitious than the Great Wall of China; more wondrous than the lost empires of Africa; a treasure to be awed and feared.
Were I to write that the travel was uneventful, those words would lie in opposition to the truth. For the truth of the matter is this: such a sight I beheld on my journey to Lorain that, had I not laid eyes upon it again on my return, I would have thought it to be no more than fancy of the mind. Yet, though I am assured of its authenticity, its memory is like a dream to me.
The Goasis is more than a gas station; more than a rest stop; more than the steel and cement which compose its skin and innards. The Goasis is the pinacle of man's acheivement, riviling - ney, surpasing the great wonders of the world: a feat more daring than the Eiffel Tower; more breathtaking than the Taj Mahal; more ambitious than the Great Wall of China; more wondrous than the lost empires of Africa; a treasure to be awed and feared.
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