My car was in the garage for repairs but rather than take the tube home, a journey of 40 minutes, I preferred to walk, a journey of 3 hours. There was a time when travelling on the underground seemed exciting; you go down in one place and come up in another place, as if by magic. But over the years, in crowded rush hour compartments stopping without warning or explanation, that magic had faded and was gradually replaced by claustrophobia. That was when I learned how to drive. Continue reading “Walking Home With The Trees”
