Tell me you don’t want to travel
Only to go back midst the noise and babble
~ Shawn Phillips ‘Song for Sagittarians’ 1970
Only to go back midst the noise and babble
~ Shawn Phillips ‘Song for Sagittarians’ 1970
Simon Stålenhag
Travelling: an almost impossible act during the months of the collapse (unless you were still playing soldiers out there), the act now been upgraded to a difficult and dangerous journey through mud of varying depth.
Difficult:
Mud degrades your agility and speed. Sticking to the old freeways where the mud is merely a centimetre or two deep renders the walk bearable, but if you stray too far out in the lowlands you’re libel to end up chest deep in something wet and pungent, call it mud if you will.
Dangerous for the same reasons that it ever was:
People
“Trust nobody, expect the worst” Joe’s words echo in her head.
The phrase ‘safety in numbers’ haunts the tension in Eva’s shoulders as she passes along a stretch of elevated freeway littered with the rusting remnants of the last ever traffic jam.
She keeps her eyes open for danger, doubting that there’s anything left to salvage on this stretch of deserted main road.
She imagines she hears music. Perhaps the days of isolation conspire, along with the sound of rain on various surfaces - mud, metal, leather hood, to deceive her mind.
Ahead of her the freeway splits, develops into a clover junction where, obeying the direction of the blinking map ref, she takes the eastern exit ramp down to where the freeways cross; South to North scissoring West to East.
No mistaking it now; under the South-North flyover: lights; voices; music.
Difficult:
Mud degrades your agility and speed. Sticking to the old freeways where the mud is merely a centimetre or two deep renders the walk bearable, but if you stray too far out in the lowlands you’re libel to end up chest deep in something wet and pungent, call it mud if you will.
Dangerous for the same reasons that it ever was:
People
“Trust nobody, expect the worst” Joe’s words echo in her head.
The phrase ‘safety in numbers’ haunts the tension in Eva’s shoulders as she passes along a stretch of elevated freeway littered with the rusting remnants of the last ever traffic jam.
She keeps her eyes open for danger, doubting that there’s anything left to salvage on this stretch of deserted main road.
She imagines she hears music. Perhaps the days of isolation conspire, along with the sound of rain on various surfaces - mud, metal, leather hood, to deceive her mind.
Ahead of her the freeway splits, develops into a clover junction where, obeying the direction of the blinking map ref, she takes the eastern exit ramp down to where the freeways cross; South to North scissoring West to East.
No mistaking it now; under the South-North flyover: lights; voices; music.
| Shawn Phillips | ||
| Song for Sagittarians | ||
2 comments:
this is another great series... I have had a chance to back read and now am looking forward to each installment. Write on, MacDuff.
Thanks Harlequin, its nice to get positive feedback. I have another 40-odd (and not so odd) episodes in the pipeline with no real sign of an ending yet, but I don't imagine going over the 100 in total unless something occurs that will take us in another direction.
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