Essence

Unless there is a very good reason I don't drive into town.
Bus stops aren't exactly cosy and trains are like refuges for thumb sucking phone junkies but at least public transport is easier on the environment and therefore the conscience.
As if to emphasise the point, almost the first thing you see on exiting Temple Meads station is an abandoned petrol forecourt.
It's a gift of a metaphor for urban decay, the futility of a fossil fuelled future and the blindness of us all as we commute past its rusting hulk.

If ever a site was crying out for a statement it was this one.