The
small forest was a natural boundary between the suburban and the rural: ache1
before she became ache1 emerged upon the latter side from an overall
syntax of infant leaf and primrose, stepping out onto a breadth of earth and
its thin green potential. The satchel she carried slugged a funereal beat into
her knees and the low spring clouds dulled the henna in her hair.
She
continued on along the fieldfence, negotiating a piled dirt ridge and rainwater
that had pooled and remained in the parallel tractor prints, following a course
that would brook no divergence, that could lead only to her life as ache1.
In
the dipped and otherwise vacant ground between this field and the caravan park
far off to her left stood a newly-built house, its powderkeg alsation loose
outside, standing all but motionless: she watched her own progress across its
vision tracked by the panning head.
Having
crossed the narrow road, she passed on now predestined through marshgrass and
overgrowth toward the railway arch and pornography hut.
