Greenvale

Entering Greenvale takes you through a path bordered by fences of linked metal wire rising on both sides. The many small diamonds of space created by the intersections blur together as you walk, distorting the view of backyard gardens and playgrounds on the other side.
At the end of the path the black street is spread out before you like an unmoving river. Two cars are parked on the side in the distance, slightly blurred from the heat waves rising off of the asphalt. Following the road, slightly offset, the white ribbon of sidewalk disappears behind the cars.
Lining the street on both sides are large dwellings faced with multi-coloured, wide rectangular doors which act as reverse drawbridges, rising to admit the home’s occupants, who stay enclosed within their cars. Above these jaw-like entrances, smaller openings are cut into the flat brick facades. These windows, with drawn shades, stare blankly out onto the street as you pass by. Occasionally a drape will twitch, causing one to wonder if there is someone watching from inside. But the street is silent. Deserted during the hours of nine and five, and you tell yourself it was only the wind, or a pet left to roam the empty house.