I've taken to occupying motorway flyovers. I've taken to writing on them, not literally writing on them, but writing whilst I’m on them. They are nice places, once of course the loud surging lanes of traffic are taken into account. I don't think my parents would understand, I don't really think anyone would understand. I'm in a strange place at the moment. ha, literally sitting on a fly over...people come so close to each other, and yet they never meet, the hgv driver on his way to the next lay by, the Mondeo driver speeding with his brights on past all and sundry without a care in the world... who knows where he's going, or has just been. They are interesting places.
Quiet and detached from the motorway below, with only the odd wanderer or solitary car looking for the slip road which will take them on to their future. I suppose it's quite apt that I should find solace in such a place... myself with no real direction, with no real place to have come from and no real place to be going... I don't know. I don't know what the drivers must think when they speed past, seeing a someone seeming to just be there... I think that’s another thing I like about it, about flyovers I mean, that I have exclusive rights to anonymity here... everywhere else there is always someone with more obscure, more public obscurities, and they always seem to be noticed... not sure what that means really... maybe I am waiting to be noticed, noticed standing on the flyover, quietly observing the cars and their people whooshing by....
Aye an an SDL will plenty.....actually words and picture by Val McReedy.
No comments:
Post a Comment