Arriving in Byers, I took the first free opportunity to wander. Heading along the train tracks I reached a bridge, under which ran a creek. Wandering is interesting in that your path is decided by a spontaneous peaking of interest at each crossroad, no destination is predetermined, but rather continually stumbled upon. I walked towards a bustling ant hill surrounded by shards of glass, giving the impression of an immense, miniature salt flat. Here, between someone's barbed wire fence and the running water I found various piles of scrap. One pile looked like the remains of a small house, slowly eroding into a pit in the Earth, as if the structure spontaneously vanished, leaving all of the homes contents to drop to the Earth in one woosh. Thoughts were with Robert Smithson's reading on non-place and I found it liberating to walk without a phone.