Journey

Travelling ever forward, I begin my journey under the shadow of immense grey girders, their angles oppressive but a silent encouragement to move forward (I think to myself that I’m in Thomas Pynchon’s London as described in the opening of Gravity’s Rainbow, but the city doesn’t reveal itself, nor its peoples to me). A rich green light gradually begins to pervade my passage (which is experienced as a succession of individual scenes akin to theatrical backdrops). From leafy tunnels to avenues of trees and at one point I find myself traversing an angled bank and look down to discover that the crunching of my feet is because I am walking on a bed of brittle peanuts. I find myself surveying a vast, rural panorama. The straight line of my path disappears into the distance. Before I can catch up with the hunched form in the middle distance to discover whether it’s that of a fellow traveller, I’m woken from my dream.