Along a winding dirt road on pebbles slick as ice the tyres describe a skater's arc blackly. But it's his scream from which echoes tumble like the driving rain and mountains cover their ears with the sinking sky - slinking, hunkering, slumping against the horizon. Does the tree shiver invisible as reason in the eye of his frustration? The fender is frowning against the prevailing shoosh of crumpled radiator and raindrops on hot metal He limps, holding himself up with his fists, clenching the air beside his hips, painfully. In the car's mouth, the tree waits for sufferance or salvation and the man, beside his steaming friend, seems to do the same.