Postcard from Kansas City

A long path called I-70 led us to this enchanted place.

If a person—a regular person’s person—is in Ohio and wants to go to Kansas City, a person will need to get through Indiana first.

We ran into Diana there. She was hunting in Terre Haute.

When we got to Kansas City, we met one guy who was just sitting on a rock, going ‘round and ‘round with his thoughts.

Another man, tiny and bone-thin, was frozen in silent song.

This sweet old bridge won my heart—and for good reason.

On the other side of town, Popeye was picking a fight with two clowns.

Meanwhile back in Terre Haute, a soldier kept vigilant watch before the castle.

Is Kansas City’s Union Station still active? We found plenty of trains whipping around inside.

And while we spied some of Kansas City’s royal subjects trekking across the land to hail Queen Shania …

… there was at least one other topic on the town’s mind.

I did not expect to meet Marilyn and Elvis at our hotel, but there you go.

To be sure, the entire city was filled with mysterious people. One glared at us from behind a building, but then I saw he left us roses.

Predictably, the time to wave goodbye to the tiniest ducks I’ve ever seen came way too fast.

Kansas City, fellow earthlings, was just beautiful.

Love, Erin