Places We Gather

Story By Kyle Tibbs Jones  |  Photos by Allie Hine
Bitter Southerner


Allie was in charge of directions.
She told me that in two miles we needed to take Exit Zero. I said, “No, really, where do we exit?” She said again, “Exit Zero.” We laughed. Was this some kind of “Being John Malkovich” moment? Were we driving into Steve Earle’s second album? Were we about to enter some other dimension? Turns out, we were.