Driving west through the middle latitudes of the country, she found, was much like watching a scene from an old black-and-white movie, in which the set is a continuous circular strip revolving to give the illusion of linear travel. After a time you began to notice that you were seeing the same landscape go by you again and again. And again.
In this endless stream of gentle hills and waving grasses, however, there is a moment when the mountains appear in front of you. At first they are obscured by the haze of accumulated atmosphere, so far in the distance that even if the sky is clear, the jutting peaks appear as if in a fog. So at first she wasn't entirely sure, after staring so long at an unchanging horizon, whether she was hallucinating.
As they drew nearer and the majestic outlines resolved out of their ghostly forms, her heart began to quicken its pace, and she felt a sense of belonging to the mountains, as though they were a part of her that she had lost long ago and was now finally recovering. At that moment, everything came into focus. At that moment, she knew she was in love.
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