Air beats in abstract rhythms against my cheeks
Streams of green swirl by either side like psychedelic blinkers
Horns bleep and my heart leaps
But all that hits us is the hot smell of rubber as the lorry moves slowly past
The blue peeps through and the tips tops are gleaming
But we are climbing
Coat gripped snugly under my chin I look down and see toy towns
A borrowers world amidst a giants land, soon the descent
Waves of glistening green tessellate
Three dimensional fingerprints identify the nation
Cascading in liquefying motion
We too move downwards
At last flat land rolls out in front of us
From a dot on the mountains crest to two sore thumbs, aliens from the west
A team of rosy cheeked school children hop skip jump and wave
Two cocks fight in a cage and a woman carries far more than she should for her age
Culture
Raw honest extraordinary culture washes over us in welcoming waves
Heart rates slow, shoulders drop and ears pop
As finally we slow to a stop.
- Lucy Atkins
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