Past the bend the road starts to climb. It is not steep, just steady, and the hills close in on both sides until the only thing ahead is grey tarmac and sky.
At the top I stopped and looked back. The curve I had written about an hour earlier was below me now, a single pale line laid between green fields, with no other car on it.
The same road, from above
From the seat the bend had felt sudden. From here it looked patient, as if the road had simply followed the edge of each field until it ran out of edges.
Every bend looks deliberate once you are above it.
Notes for the road
- I stopped counting fields after the first dozen.
- Clouds moved faster than anything on the road.
- Copied into the notebook: “the road follows the fields, not the other way round.”