A landscape of language on the move

I live in a changing town. Houses, built at the end of the nineteenth century, are frequently remodelled for the needs of new owners. Front gardens grow and wither with the seasons.

Streets, pavements and roads made by the regular lines of the houses change too, yes, the underlying grid moves slowly, but these streets and roads shift too, grow bumps and acquire holes, make trips and traps, sometimes overnight, to catch me if I allow myself to become too assuming or inattentive to their lives.

Then into this, my vigilance of my town - dropped into my schematic inside-my-head landscape of roads to avoid, streets safe to walk - swirls another ever-changing element to watch: the vehicle.

If I were new to this world, I would expect, over time, these creatures would assemble themselves into groups of patterns, colours, shapes. What puzzles me now could soon become familiar.

Then, like a sudden daring form of uncommon dress a woman or a man might wear on the streets, I might be jolted to attention - a strangeness might make me turn my head - I'm curious, laugh, say, ugh, not for me or, Hmm, I could wear that.

Then within a season, it's normal. I barely notice the slide to the trend, until we all do this, wear that, see these, say like, do you know what? as normal. In twenty years I might look back at a photograph of now and wonder, Did we dress like that? Did we drive those cars? Use those words?

Then here is the snapshot for twenty years on. Here is the language that these vehicles carry. I cannot link it to any narrative, because these words and images are constantly reforming, reordering and reshaping, moving as each vehicle which carries them moves. Here are words  which swirl around me now, daily, hourly, by the minute, in these streets and roads.

Becoming dated as each day comes, with the changing fashions, seasons, years.

Here is the talk, the vernacular, the bonhomie, the jokes, the intent, the chatting of us ordinary people everyday.

Here we tell ourselves who we are, and who we aspire to be.

We trade, attract, persuade, invite you all to wonder about strong tastes and full bellies.

We announce allegiances, affiliations, make statements of ideology, arrange our loyalties, wave our flags, declare what matters to us, show our who-we-are.

We tell stories of fears, vulnerabilities and insecurities.

We show our employment, our jobs, our responsibilities, permissions, authorities and rights.

We tell passers-by how safe are our practices, how we can be trusted, and what good and honest people we are.

We advertise, announce births and marriages, display our families, caution our Probationary driver status, and tell people off.

We declare where your taxes go in public services, announce the safety and attentiveness of authority, and then say, If you are injured by this vehicle, it's not my responsibility.

And then we say, Me? I'm staying anonymous.