Night.
Concrete.
Sweet warmth.
Is this prison?
At the highway toll both a young man sits with a machine gun.
The woman in the booth is also young.
She smiles, her teeth very white in the darkness.
The young man gives a thumbs up.
Barbed wire, high walls, guard posts.
There is no one on the streets.
No one.
Beep for the gate to be opened, shut behind.
All around the forest closes in.
Night.
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