Driving through Kansas feels like traveling along the grove in a vinyl record. There are skips and blips that break up the continuity of the land out the window. Landmarks, both man-made and natural, seem to repeat in a rhythmic pattern. A tall white grain elevator comprised of adjacent cylinders sits next to an aluminum shed I can only describe as house-shaped. They stand in front of rolling green and yellow fields. Every few minutes, this scene appears to repeat itself, but like the spiraling groove on a record, we are traveling along a new path. Walking in the Tallgrass Prairie Preserve also had a rhythmic cyclical nature. The birds chirping, the wind blowing, and the apparently infinitely rolling hills all had a steady repetition that made me feel like I was not gaining any ground, while simultaneously covering vast distances.