It was not necessarily whether you were on this road before or not, what was that time and age, how many travelers crossed halves of the golden continent via this route, what did the biker writer leave behind or take with her, why the five musicians planted the first Joshua tree here, who was that old man digging still for gold of this desert.
All of it did not matter. You were back here. Again. Just like your past and your future. The same road of desert storm piercing its way through the cruel rocks, doing what it knows best to do, is to be that milestone reminding the wanderers and the poets why all that suffering of arrivals and departures was worth it.