Oklahoma City

On April 22, 1885, over the course of a day called the Great Run Race, 10 000 people settled on unclaimed land, giving birth to Oklahoma City.
A little more than one hundred years later, on April 19, 1995, 168 men, women and children lost their lives in the same city in the horrifying bombing of one the federal buildings lining downtown.
Oklahoma City, symbol of the American pioneer days and of undeserved brutal violence. A city, where the past lingers in a downtown, which still reinvents itself through lively cafés and breweries, basketball games and street music, merely blocks away from the serene National Memorial built on the site of the destroyed federal building.
From Oklahoma City, highway 40 East cuts through the green lush hills of the eastern part of the state and then through Arkansas, over lakes, rivers and ponds. The air is losing the dryness of the west and is charged with more humidity, hinting of the east coast.
Driving through the United States gives me a sense of place, a better understanding of the geography that defines people’s everyday’s life, and connects me more intimately with my land of adoption.
Tonight we will be in Memphis. We are spending the night at the Heartbreak hotel, on the King’s territory and visiting Graceland tomorrow morning. This is Father’s Day after all, and I live with an Elvis’s fan. 
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