It gets later, I'm still cycling and the cars that once ran the road are beginning to disappear. A forest that had been lining my route for so long opens up into a seemingly endless field, and deep in the fields huge machines farm the land. It's one of those moody nights which bares no stars, though the clouds that hide them can be seen vividly. The clouds are oddly tinted by pinches of red, while the dark sky is brought to life by far-reaching, twirling lasers of light, carried by the long and blurred silhouettes that trapse the hills around me. Their distant and gentle murmurs fill the air. They stop being tractors and machines, and instead they look like some kind of fantastical creatures of the night, as if born from some wild dream. They seem lonely as they crawl around me, as if all their lights are searching for something, but they know not what, as if they know they don't belong here. Every now and then one drives along the road and I see a strange pattern of lights get closer and closer through the blackness before disappearing behind me. My own lights are quite strange. Although I'm smaller, I start to feel like one of them, and we keep to ourselves as we pass each other by. Perhaps it is tiredness, from cycling so far and so late into the night, but the reality fades, the dream takes over, and for 20 minutes I feel as if I'm moving through another world.
No comments:
Post a Comment