And on we go

... And on we go, ever north,
Scenery overtaking the cardboard city, greyscale washout, the city left behind, but traces of the past still cling to my wayward looking eyes,
With orange helmets working their day away in the baking heat of a misplaced summer sun, and thick tyres chunkily crawl across the terrain, delving deep into the earth and casting back once each job is done.

The sky is a pale blue, that of a sunny day in the tropics before the furnace has fully got going. The threadbare rugs of green lineage are in recovery, knitting and sewing themselves back together to fulfil the dream of a lush landscape once the season moves along.

The dull thrum of motors on the tarmac has not slowed or evened out, but the uproar of suburban living is gradually being lost amidst the galloping tracking of adventure and new escapades, and so on we go, ever north, and the sun is at my back, pushing me in the correct way