"There is light, always light at the end of the tunnel," they say.
Driving at a snails pace, low on fuel, not knowing how much further there is to go. I need to breathe. "There is light, always light," they repeat.
The tunnel is long, too long. At each bend, I catch a glimpse of the light. But then it moves further away. Elusive. Evasive. "There is light, always light," they insist. Really? Is the Pope Catholic? Shut up! Can't remember stopping at an SOS point.
It is getting worse. Too many road signs and artificial lights. Getting lost. The tunnel now splits into several directions. Where do they go? May need help to find the way out.
But upon greeting the light, and with their voices still echoing in my head, I repeat to others: "There is light, always light..."