perspective

He wasn't happy. I had driven down a 200 metre stretch of road which belonged to him. A small stretch of road lost in the middle of vast countryside. Had I not seen the notice saying it only belonged to him? That only he had the right to take it? With his four wheel drive landrover? 200 metres of tarmac on the map. An insignificant run of cement in his own country. An inconsequential streak of black on the planet. Yet there he was defending his measly bit of road, with his teeth clenched, his face red and pearls of sweat sprouting on his forehead.