It's the year 2000 inside my car, outside it's a few years later...
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Two days and two nights in an airport car park, blank and anonymous, set in a garden of grey concrete and predominately silver cars, buried. There have been times when having returned to the car park it takes me at least twenty minutes to find the car. I think the car hides, trying to avoid me, enjoying the peace and the long snooze that I have inflicted, sleeping like a cat, deeply but fitfully. That's an uncomfortable thought.