by Ernest Hogan
I just returned from another road trip.
Like a re-entry into the Earth’s atmosphere–if you’ll pardon the flashback to my Space Age childhood–coming back home can be stressful.
No danger of burning up like a meteor, but after being in different environments, home and the old routine seem different.
It’s like one of those science fiction stories where an astronaut returns from a long mission and finds that life on Earth is no longer what they thought it was.
Hmm . . . I should probably offer that as a prompt for the class I’ll be . . . teaching . . . in a couple of days! No, wait a minute --that won't be happening due to circumstances beyond my control . . .
Argh!
It’s always future–or some other kind of–shock.
Shock you can get high on.
The photos used here are from the trip, presented in reverse-chronological order.
Ernest Hogan, the Father of Chicano Science Fiction, is readapting to his altered environment.
You always amaze me by the way you see things. I like tripping into your world, much different than mine, but none the less, I ENJOY yours too. Probably a tiny part of me is that way, just shy away from it for sone reason. I mean you are my brother after all.
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