It is dusk, the lights are just starting to turn on.
As I pass a tree, I notice the different colors of the lights which project onto it, and tulips blooming to my left.
There's a moss that pervades on top of red brick walls — the natural on top of the unnatural in this area of yellow clay.
There's a cat. She mews softly as I begin to pet her. She seems happy with the company, but then meanders off. She stares at me as I walk away.
Many signs of private drives and cctv cameras. They are watching me. But still old bricks covered in moss.
There's a lot you can tell about a property looking at the condition of its surrounding wall.
I reach a rich intersection and reflect on the fact that I'm most positively lost.
Across the way are the murmurs of the suburban population. Cars here are parked onto the sidewalk. Living in the space for people.
The wind picks up now. I see it moving a willow tree. Cars become more prominent as the light fades, the light from their headlights blinding — making evident the division between the walker and the driver.
The walls of the world have changed into a mix of plaster and yellow brick. A foreign landscape: Blossoming cherry trees. A beautiful break from the monotony of dead.
Joyful sounds that are full of life. Light begins to show. From rooms towards the street. Residential buildings showing occupation.
In the background, I can see the cranes of Central London. Skyscrapers in their own right from the urban center.
At last, I reach the place of my destination. A different entrance than I thought I would see. Gunnersbury station.