living in dischord

to my left the trainlines, the town and factories, the river, forest, fields
before me the cowshit-splattered road
to the right the field of cows, the hill of sheep
the wall protecting us from the noise of one of the main routes across Europe - from France straight through to the borders of China - look left at the right point and you will see the towering heights of my lime tree
and, on the other side of the motorway, the main road, the cranes building who knows what, the small and medium sized businesses and industries, the little lanes and cobbled ways, the village shop, the schools, the meadows, the historically interesting bridge over yet another river and the conglomerate cliffs rising up to the old cloister full of nuns slowly but surely going extinct
such a massive range in such a small space
living in the middle of nowhere yet right in the middle of somewhere
that's the strange reality of living in this north eastern part of Switzerland, straddling the massive divide between the modern and the ancient past
trying to match dischord with harmony - and succeeding