There is a whole network of pedestrian pathways and zigzags around the hill I live on. My favourite one runs beneath Grafton Road.
I always loved taking this path on my way home from my first school; a grim and terrifying convent run by an order of Catholic nuns, the Sisters of Mercy, who were anything but; they seemed to hate us children and wouldn’t hesitate to wield leather straps against us. I particularly remember being told that our souls are like blotting paper that starts off pure and white; each sin we commit is like a drop of black ink eating up the whiteness.
How did I survive such psychological abuse? Taking the path home away from the road and traffic into Magic Land, and this country’s natural paradise, must have helped. I dream of a city with no roads, just a connecting network of pedestrian pathways weaving in and out of Magic Land.