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Tell me, neighbor, how do you feel? Well, come inside and let me see what I have for you. It might be something good, something that can only be found along the highways and backroads of an American dreamer's countryside; it might be an old girlfriend or a bittersweet memory of a summer afternoon; it might be a backyard flowerbed or a distant unknown world; it might be a moment of silence or a snippet of a forgotten song so exquisite that it breaks your heart; it might be the future; it might be the past. It might be painful, but it might be worth it. Tell me, neighbor, what do you want? Do you long for the days when freedom meant freedom, not obeisance; when non-conformity was a breath of fresh air, not a fist in the face; when the sun shone down sweetly on the honeysuckle vine after the spring rain; when lovers gazed up at the moon and romantics gazed back; when pretty girls drove convertibles with their tops down; when sentences winked at you with ambiguity? If so, then, my friend, you have come home.