Image by Christine Renney
As I walk I am reassured by the line of traffic on my right – by its constancy – but I don’t look directly at it. Instead, I focus on the road ahead and it is just a blur and harmless, a childish scrawl of smudged crayon.
I have become fascinated by the things found alongside the road; fast food cartons and cans of course but also other discarded items. Perhaps objects would be a better description or even artefacts. Most are useless and many are unrecognisable – pieces from puzzles in hard plastic and now not so shiny metal.
Carrion, this is how I refer to the debris. In my head it is always ‘the carrion’, probably because the birds, the crows, swoop down to peck at it. But it isn’t.
Up ahead I spot a blown out tyre and I step from the grass bank, onto the hard shoulder. It is shredded and ripped but otherwise complete. I stop and kick at it. At least I know what this is and where it came from.