Life is But a Stream — Part 3

Buddy’s car raced along the highways towards the laundromat. Patches of unadulterated green grass spilled off the ends of highway bridges, only to be stopped by suburban sprawl. As Buddy drove off the highway, he passed by one of his favorite spots in Plano, a fenced-off patch of grass where small horses would often be grazing. There was something about the purity of that land and those horses, the way they stayed calm in the midst of…