I’ve put off completing my concluding segment of this trip. The first day, riding through the winding roads of Quebec and Vermont, I couldn’t help but think of the past, a past that one could read on the surface and between the lines of the land. Riding through New York, that sensation was even more intense, compounded by the empty factories, abandoned restaurants, and prisons that now compose much of the landscape of rural upstate New York. The introduction of the automobile created the Mo(tor Ho)tels, and the Interstate Highways displaced the circulation of people who once were the life blood of these channels. By the time I reached Brooklyn, I was imaging what the landscape might look like in the future. Would there be a time in the future of this spot in which a sniper would be perched up on that building? Will the city ever endure bombing campaigns, or have ground troops occupying it? After returning recently from another trip in Europe, this sensation, of realizing the realities of the past and how our own sense of stability is just as precarious, has come to dominate my consideration of ‘the future.’ As the 10th anniversary of the attacks of September 11, 2001 just passed, this may not seem unusual, but those events are only tangentially related. Life is movement, and we are kidding ourselves if we think that somehow we are different. I’d say this is the calm before the storm, but in truth it hasn’t been so calm. The situation in Europe has done nothing to convince me that we aren’t on the cusp of another shift.