Further to the thoughts of Heraclitus (22 August) and in consideration of the changing nature of places, we took this pic of the M4 West of London at about 1 a.m. as we headed home. Many would view motorways as characterless necessities, good only for expedient movement between A and B. Contrary to this simplistic take on Britain’s concrete arterial network, I would see them as an ever evolving environment, like Heraclitus’ river, never the same from one moment to the next, and, in my opinion, possessing of their own beauty. The cars themselves, all moving at different rates exemplify the essence of relativity, a bit like my beloved clouds. But, at night, there’s something else, something delightfully mysterious about the motorway. The car lights illuminate an immediate and moving sphere, beyond which there’s just a vague presence of “things”, buildings, people, places, creatures; all with their own story. Tiny lights appear, grow closer, zoom past and then, they’re gone. In the vehicles themselves, lone drivers think their very private thoughts and maybe some of them think like me (although this is, of course, highly unlikely).