Walking to school turns us into frogs hopping from one rock colored lily pad to the next. Sometimes nature takes over, leaving us no option except to plunge our feet daringly into the cold, murky water. The effects of such concentrated and prolonged rain are roads that have been reshaped into wavy bands, bottoming out taxis and making even pedestrians seasick.
The solution: piles of rubble filled with cinder block, old tiles, broken chunks of cement and a horde of other unrecognizable material. A small group of men pass the night sorting and dispersing the pile, trying to make it passable for cars. It seems an impossible task but after a few days, some parts have been trod over with enough weight and frequency to even it all back to dirt again. There remain plenty of areas where the rubble refuses to break. Rough corners of cement blocks rise from the roadway, daring tires to pass over, their height taunting the underbellies of the mechanical beasts.
There is a battle going on, between road and man and machine and weather. It's not certain which, if any, alliances have been made or who will come out victorious. The art is clearly in the struggle each puts forth to overcome the other.
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| The first of a collection of odd rubble piles I passed on my way out of the neighborhood one morning |
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| Each pile covers a deep, rolling wave in the earth |
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| I wonder where it comes from, who arranged for it to be dropped off, and did they actually pay for this? |
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| I think the blocks appear too huge to actually help. But I am wrong. A group of men sort and spread these piles until you can actually drive over them. Mostly. |
