Growing up in West aBy Goda Virginia in the late a90s was a juvenile car crash of discovery. With a newly acquired license and a hand-me-down a85 Ford Tempo, interstate road maps connected the lines of a rapidly receding childhood. People were dying. Friends were sucking each other into a drug-filled adolescence, and the middle ground balanced itself on a spinning top. Cancer killed with a fog upon grandmotheras eyes. Divorce shattered lives not worth living. The only way out of it all was a hastily dug rabbit hole into a city daydream.