Country And Continent

Vehicle crawling across a dusty landscape. Clouds swirling from beneath the tyres, dusty windows, finger leaves a trail. Jolting over rocks and dips and bumps. Travelling ever onwards towards the border. Can't see it yet but we know its coming. We ready ourselves. Hands rustle through pockets to retrieve the necessary documents, then clutch them in preparation.

Earlier the road was smooth, easy - we cruised, foot down hard on the pedal and tarmac uncurling fast behind us like a gymnast's ribbon. The vehicle moved with intent and we had the windows down, sun roof open. The air was cold and we could almost taste the light - clarity!

Now slow, sluggish, bumpy but still moving onwards, propelled by some force.

It is always different. The crossing, the road, the transition from one country to the next. The car makes this journey everyday and yet no day is the same.

Here now, going through the barriers, we may enter tonight and are in a different state already. Why does that tree have no leaves thought it is summer time? Why does that house have no windows? A hint of the unfamiliar, like an unidentifiable scent, faint and lingering. But we've been here before!

The vehicle negotiates its way through the landscape. We observe. We drive on.