Looking for the Sea

There are reasons why and there are reasons why not. There are always reasons, there are always options, there are always choices. There are all these crossroads leading this way and that, left or right. We do not know which way to go, which way to turn. The hedges at the sides of what is left of these roads are overgrown and thick, too dense to see through, too dense to see what is up ahead, around the next corner, let alone what lies off in one direction or another.

We are – we hope – heading south – more or less - whenever the roads let us move in such a straightforward direction. Often it is a choice between roads that lead away in opposing directions, neither one indicating whether they will take us further south, or if we'll be heading in another direction altogether.

We did try walking across the field, the open ground, but that was harder, much harder now that everything is so overgrown. The roads themselves have often fallen into ruin and we find ourselves following the skeleton of a road, the ghost of a road, the memory of a road, rather than any road itself.

We are heading south, looking for the sea, although none of us knows what we will do once we get there and run out of road altogether.