The ashes of American Flags (part three)

The third act was here, playing out against the cold red rock on the Winter solstice. I savored the daylight I had left on the open road.
I haven’t seen one Wal-Mart yet in these small towns, which frankly surprises me, and my premise for this road adventure. It changes my outlook, solidifies the notion that you can only judge something after being a witness to it yourself.
I knock on the door, hoping to purchase something fresh and organic, but all I hear is the distant barking of a dog. I find an open desert valley, and wander in the stillness for a spell….
then turn the ignition, and carry on, feeling that the course of the original project has changed from one of showcasing the decline of the middle class to one of hopeful optimism that it was all propaganda and lies in the first place.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?