Desire Lines

     My boyfriends father lives in a really beautiful neighborhood in Scottsdale. It's one of those places where every house looks nice. Their front yards are all neat and tastefully done, the walls are clean of graffiti and the sidewalks don't even have one piece of trash lining their streets. In the middle of the neighborhood is a children's park surrounded by grass and cement and filled with wood chips that replaced the sand in the play area.

     It was nighttime when I explored the area, the sprinklers were on insinuating lush, green grass in the day. 

    The sidewalks were wet and I had to dodge the flying water multiple times. It occurred to me that the tedious path I took in wanting to explore the area could be thought of as a desire line.  

However, in further exploration of the dark, empty park, I began to notice: 

                                                                                

                                                                                          the unevenness of the wood chips, 

                                                                            

the scuffs on the slides and play structures, 

the slow wearing of the plastic and metal that held everything together for maybe years now. 

Subtle signs of life!  Of exploration, of desire to play. 

     These are desire lines too.