The edge is a work in progress, with round-the-clock crews building and blasting at the flat man’s whim. Sometimes he wants a barrier to keep out the very thought of incursion, with dizzying heights and a sheer drop to oblivion. Other times he’ll demand a gradient so gentle that it’s impossible to divide Here from The Great Beyond, so even the dead can shuffle across. And then there are the times at which he demands both simultaneously, and he’ll stalk the margin with his hands behind his back and his head cocked to visions and voices that only he can perceive, muttering no no no like a tetchy schoolmaster to a wilful child. Today the topography’s of no concern, but he wants flowers, for the benefit of pollinators and the judging panel of The World’s Best Kept Edge. It’s more work than progress, but the flat man gets what the flat man wants, however many living, breathing, hard-working families stumble and fall.
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Oz Hardwick
Picture Nick Victor
Thanks to Dominique Hecq
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