Many years ago when the internet was a more fun place and less of a collection of algorithms dedicated to enslaving us to a life of payment free content creation in our own little work from home factory cells, I stumbled upon a site dedicated to an abandoned railway line in New York.
Across the city skyline it strode. Dodging between the legs of high rise giants but casting shadow over low rise dwarves.
The high line for high life or low life. Rattling and humming and hissing no more.
Just parallel rust hidden beneath untamed stems. An elevated beltway of urban garden. A strip of pollination and graffiti.
A world above your head. An alien space.