The road ahead projects onto an unfamiliar vista, a vast expanse with a stretch of highway adorned with random patches of colour. The view in the rear view mirror is omnipresent with grey, the odd rumble of thunder punctuated with intermittent flashes that bring a focused light into the present.
The wheels of the time machine chug along, rolling over new bitumen and the odd affirming bump. The density of the rear clouds masks long forgotten summers. Amidst that rear fog, tiny rainbows and ephemeral summers appear.
With a firm grasp of the wheel and eyes pointed forward, the time machine continues its linear journey, pausing occasionally to refuel and recycle from past energies.
