The cast of the shadows pattern the image. They are suggestive of sundial time telling. Each second marked. Each shape owned by its darker twin. Soon the red gate will be gone as the developers move in. Meanwhile its beauty draws me in, fascinated by its solitude I aim to witness that which will soon vanish. Last year the gateway was overgrown with summer. The nature of the track claiming back what man was no longer using. This summer its stand will be lost. It is no match for that which man calls progress.