The South Road
We travelled south. In baskets. Long roads through the black night. At some point we’d pass through a long tunnel, and out on the other side, in the south country. At sunrise we’d fly. Straight like bullets towards home. They don’t know how we do it, navigate I mean. Head north, cross the big water, home. It wasn’t always as easy as that though. Some didn’t make it back. Hawks, bad weather, all kinds of obstacles. But then some just think ‘fuck it, I’ll go to Holland’
The south country beyond the tunnel is forbidden now. So we stay this side of the big water. We still race, only now we must stay on this side. I don’t understand it. Something about documents, whatever they are. The people decided that the north country was no longer a part of the south country and so the men could no longer take us down there to fly. At least not without these document things. Seems silly to me. I could fly there on my own. I could fly anywhere, there are no borders in the sky.