On a quest to find something more than city walls and painted roads, I follow unmapped lanes and find myself waking up in strange places. It's usually for a desire to keep going just a little bit longer before the eyelids start to close by themselves, and it usually means pulling over in quiet places that may turn out to be busy in the morning. That's not something you find out until you're woken up by a bus horn at 7am.

I found myself at school gates on a sunday morning, in the middle of nowhere, only to have my sleep disturbed by an angry stranger, knocking my windows and threatening trouble. I found myself in a forest, where I saw nobody for days, and forgot, for a time, what work days were. And here, wherever that is, I found myself staring down the children of the cabbage, late one friday night, and I found the light falling off in a captivating way, as though the edge of the world had been reached and there was nothing else to illuminate. And even though the city can be seen, it was more like a painted backdrop than a living environment.

You might think it lonely, and it can be, but some of these places bring more peace than loneliness and opportunities for reflection and creation. In them, I often discover things I didn't expect to find.

Here, in a cabbage field, I found a moment to take in the simplicity of quiet plants and appreciate the spaces that aren't filled with traffic, people and urgency.

Here, in the cabbage, where life is slow, there is only time, but it has no real meaning. There's no reason to leave and no reason to stay. It just is.

Swaying with the wind. Something to learn from a cabbage.