Abandoned roads - Jos Lammers

The man follows the bird with his camera. To the left. A
bit to the right. Left again. Then he presses. He lowers the
camera and looks at the screen for the result. He hums.
He’s got it. Slowly and without noticing us or saying anything
he walks off. The first stars appear.
The next day after the unapproachable granite, the
shady pine trees, the giant sequoias and the many tourists
of Yosemite Park we make our last leap to San Francisco.
The transition from nature to city is gradual. First the
mountains get lower, then meadows and orchards appear
between the forests and in the end the road is flat and
straight and we drive through strawberry fields, walnut
orchards, olives, cherries, apricots, peaches and grapes.
About every ten or twenty miles there is a village with
gas, hamburgers and coffee in quarter gallon cups. Small
size. The houses here are big and well kept. Even the
trailer parks, part of almost every town, are filled with
shiny polished mobile homes. Going west still holds its
promises.
Then the orchards too come to an end and the villages,
trailer parks, repair shops, yards with used cars (‘mega
sales’) and industrial areas are joined together and with
a shock we stand in front of the first traffic light in days.
Not long after that we get onto Interstate 580 to San
Francisco.
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