Out an underpass

[wishdan]

It's a vine metro; a cracking concrete such ice-shatter hairline through a green vine tree. It across, a breeze a silent breath between silent sigh and shy note of nothing from a fading harmonic hum. A frequent line, pulsing line, flicker-line underneath iron, rolling under backwards away from onward, 'round the east bend onto 26.

True silence is theoretically impossible.