It’s a void landscape under the overpass. Some sort of negative and empty space in the busy fabric of the infrastructure above. Somehow there always needs to be something green, or a park, or fitness-grounds, as to to compensate, for the concrete, asphalt and fume ridden atmosphere from the upper world. This seems to be the space in where the inhabitants, living in the bustling cities above, suppose to relax and have a free space. Strangely enough these landscapes don’t seem to be alive, they’re made up after the fact, drawn on paper, the last square mile of the city which was unplanned, paved and planted with a facsimile of nature and space.