The asphalt has been deposited as a tongue of basalt occupying the perfect circle of the roundabout. The road half done, rebuilt, no lines of white paint, no traffic signs yet. The tires leave a trail of dust and taking hot bitumen. It is a blackened tomb traps alive and completely clean soil…

The old asphalt piled up in the ditch, pulled up as if as a disaster, with the imperfection of a child removing a sticker.