There’s a place on Highway 1 in California where you can look straight down a hundred feet on a small cove surrounded by jagged black lava rock walls and held fast at its mouth by submerged reefs. As you look down on the sea you can actually see the roiling evidence of the five or six currents that meet there. They look like several separate snakes weaving their way around, past and through each other. They come together and draw apart and sometimes weave their own way for a bit. You can track their individual trails by bits of seaweed caught in their grip or bottom sand that makes coppery gold patterns as it swirls in the passage of the water. Whatever their paths and crossings and seeming confusions of purpose, at last they join and crash on the small sandy beach and wipe it white and pristine.

Two Way Split is like that place. Its multiple, diverse characters circle and swirl over, under, around, and through each other; seeming to go in all different directions at once. In the end though, they come together and crash onto the sandy beach and wipe it clean and pure and just the way it ought to be.

All that arty bleep aside, In Two Way Split, Mr. Allan Guthrie with a maniacal laugh, knocks your derby clear off your head, sends it flying with the wind and announces that people, events and even life itself always come down to the jagged edge of a two way split. Buckle your chin strap and hang on, troops. You’re in for a RIDE!

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