You going to A and I to B, and each in a rush to be at the other’s leaving. Do we storm like juggernauts over the road, juddering the macadam crust? Or like snails, softly gliding over shell, brushing against mollusc flesh, one of us raising our shell politely whilst the other tiptoes its tyres upside-down along the risky underneath? Do we trouble to see the world upside down for the sake of another’s easy passage, or only deal with the surface? Is what stands beside us a blur, whirring past, gone before it’s noticed, faster than the speed of retina? Or do we make sure to smell the blooms and cock our heads to the buzzing within them, catching glimpses of glory and blue-tailed flies?
Text and photo © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2016