A yellow tractor speeds along to my left as I salute a materialized magpie.
X2 return on the vergeside.
Police car sinks into Beechwood tarmac.
Digital voices drift across the outlying fields.
I cross the A180 bridge and pick up another chalk rock from Capital Hill.
A guy in his mid-thirties cycles past conversing with himself and headphones in ears.
Quayside lorries mock me behind factorious fences,
Overweight Daniels workers wait for relational bus 2 mediated by images.