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The low slung starting rise of the freeway's bridge forms a dark and shadowed region between its underbelly and the ground...a razor's slash of light spurts forth the sight of sun blazoned, bright orange sculptured "sticks", rising from their concreted baseland, revealed in this letterbox gash...this scene is captured through my viewfinder... |
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Cars and trucks hurtling past...light buffets of wind stirred up by the passing traffic... Listen to a sound bite from this location... (*.mp3 format, 940KB) |
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The air is tinged with the fumes of the passing traffic...there is the smell of dust from the dry earth beneath the bridge... |
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The concrete of the overpass is cool and its solidness reassure me...the dust beneath me is soft and cushions my tripod... |
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It is dificult in some ways to swallow because the dust is easily kicked up and has dried me out slightly...this is the taste that arises when one is slightly parched...I wonder if this is what it tastes like to have chewed on a packet of desiccant... |
