Axes from Château de Brécy stretch from the bottom of a terraced hill in Normandy, France.

Under an infinite sky, my car propels through a woodland corridor. Ahead, an avenue of pleached trees in a huddled stand appear to support each other with branches like intertwining fingers while a thin taping of pavement cuts through the specialized corridor with intent.


Driving through the woods, dark bare ground under heavy canopy reveals leg like trunks on both sides of my car. I feel as if I’m sheering a straight shaft upward through the shade to keep me connected to the supervising light above. Firm on the steering wheel, my illuminated hands power the car through to the next destination.

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