Zero eight – zero four – twenty twenty

drive 1


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I zoom in and out at The Europarc roundabout – sometimes Beechwood Farm is visible, others it is not. 2010. 2020. It just depends.

I sigh, because someone once told me that it’s ‘good for your health.’

I wait for a moment and feel the next wave of uncertainty flow through my central nervous system.

Birdsong temporarily redirects my thinking.

The lamp posts form a guard of honour along Europarc Way.

I feel sad for a yellow bollard as it waits on a neglected islet looking out across to the motionless A180.


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