In delicately quiet moments between hours of roaring traffic and miles of undulating tarmac, cold machinery, locked in position at a lay-by somewhere near Germany.

These places are remote, but there's a feeling like nothing can go wrong. The truckers just want to sleep, so they can get back on the road early. The passing cars just want to get home. There's nobody here who wouldn't rather be somewhere else.

Except me. I am happy in these places between nowhere and no idea where, happy to sit still on the door step, watching the night pass, happy to feel disconnected and alone.

There's peace in disappearance.

Still and dark, just the way I like it.