salt.

She pointed at a truck that passed by. I used to work for them – driving all over the country! She said, her bulky arms waving. On them she tattooed a few names; past boyfriends, husbands, fathers of children. And a single rose (no name attached).

Oh! You know what? We’ll pass Salt Lake City in a few hours, she told me, you have to get some pictures of it, she told me.

So, is it like, why did they, I mean, how did the city get its name? I asked.

Coz these salt lakes are just everywhere, she said.

You mean, I mean, they’re like, really salt? I asked.

Yep, salt, I think she said.

Oh. But. But it’s up in – I mean, is it like, I mean, we’re going up the mountain now, aren’t we? I asked.

Yes. Salt Lake City is up in the mountain, she said.

But then, I said, how come there’s, like, I said, salt? I asked. I mean, where did the salt come from? I asked. Was this, like, part of the sea once? I asked.

Hm.

Hm.

Hm.

Hm. I don’t remember her answer actually. So unfortunately this is where this part of the Greyhound Bus story must end.