I walk down the trail in the dark, watching the trees as they shift around me, hearing the sounds of powerlines overhead. Not just any powerlines, but high tension lines. 4 rows of huge steal towers rattling with the energy pouring through them to thousands of homes and factories. Energy that should be silent, but is being pulled through so forcefully and quickly that it cannot help but to complain about it. I cower slightly and hurry on up the side of the dike and down the paved trail.
For a paved trail it is that I walk down, I yearn for the cover, and the trees, and the dirt, so I soon I walk down the other side to the dirt road. Here I can smell the trees. Nature thrums around me a bit more, I hear ducks moving about on the water. An old dirt road, I think about trucks, and about people, and how fertile this soil is. I think about how farming is a strange melding of working with the earth and destroying it - and it can be so many different places in between. But On the other side of this line of trees is not a farm, it hasn't been a farm for a long time. No, on the other side of these trees is an abandoned army base: an airfield. Soon the dirt road ends, and I'm forced back up on to the paved trail again.
Eventually I come to a road. As I near, a car passes. It thumps by, plodding along evenly, neither loud nor silent, not swift or slow in it's intent to go wherever it's going. It passes as I pass, as my mind passes. I cross the road.
I imagine a man. He is an old farmer. He walks down an old dirt road like the one I was just walking down. I see him through a story told by his son, sitting in a coffee shop. This young man explains that his father was born on that farm. He tells me that the old farmer walks because his truck, the truck the farmers parents got for his 13'th birthday, broke down earlier this year. The truck was not actually a present to him directly, they had to buy a new truck actually, but they had nothing to give him. So they had saved the truck for almost a month, so they could bring it out on his birthday as a surprise, and use it to haul vegetables to the market. The son is a stock broker. He has no sibling.
And suddenly I'm back on the trail. I'm passng a telephone pole - lit from below. It is lit like a flagpole in front of some important building. Lit like all of those ever so important images of our great flag in all it's glory, with bombs bursting in air lighting it ever so dramatically... and terribly. Like the way a the human monsters face in a horror movie is lit. A menacing light.
I'm in the dark again for a while, then... a blinding light. I walk into it, having no choice really, as that is the direction that the trail goes. Under a bridge it passes, with lights across the side. No doubt they are to keep me safe, since bad things can't happen to people when there are lights... but they burn. These lights are so yellow, and they burn so much that they bleach the sidewalk, between the lights are tracts of grey'ish brown, but where the light shines is nearly white... it hurts.
I pass through, and after walking down a short length of road I'm home. I walk into an apartment with a room I don't even use... and fall aslepp.