The road has a will

by Old Bone Machine

1967-18

The road has a will, a sometimes stubborn will, that challenges the rider. The will of other roads then is to confide in the rider, to show a way and to perhaps retell a story.

The road was narrow, white, old, hard and scarred with shadow. It ran away westwards in the mist of the early morning, running cunningly through the little hills and going to some trouble to visit tiny towns which were not, strictly speaking, on its way. It was possibly one of the oldest roads in the world. I found it hard to think of a time when there was no road there because the trees and the tall hills and the fine views of bogland had been arranged by wise hands for the pleasing picture they made when looked at from the road. Without a road to have them looked at from they would have a somewhat aimless if not a futile aspect.

(from The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien)

1967-17

Images sourced from Rapha.

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