the Parthenay viaduct

Fighting back vertigo, I cautiously lean over the viaduct’s north rail. Below me the sunken roof of the abandoned Old Mill of God, sinks peacefully into the Solstice mist. The mist wraps everything in a layer of reminiscences, as if the past is seeping gradually yet inexorably into the present. The Pathenay viaduct is nothing…

a walk along the tracks

An abandoned train station has a loneliness all its own. A hub of motions, of all manner of comings and goings, new exchanges and intersections, has been rendered utterly still. As if time has frozen over. Scrub grows between the tracks like exclamation marks of this presiding stillness. And yet the architecture of all this…