I have this swingeing fear of roads. The darkness it sustains, the silence that says too much, its extent and scope, its curves that I can't cope. The fresh blood appears more red than ever because of the only light that flashes on that unvoiced liquid. The shattered glass, the tyre marks skidding away from the only light the road can indulge. You are too afraid to find out. But oh, what are those marks leading to? What happened to those people? Where did they go? Did the road just swallow them? Wounded them and left them bleeding? Or just threw them right off the cliff? You never know the things this silent road does to people and then act all gullible.