There’s a scene in Agnès Varda’s film, Cléo from 5 to 7, when Cléo (Corinne Marchand) starts crossing a Parisian street. Traffic gives way so she and a few other people can cross.
It reminded me of an experience seared into my memory from the 1960s. I was halfway across a road in Paris when the traffic lights changed. A phalanx of Peugeots and Citroẽns surged at me, engines roaring, radiator grilles grimacing. They weren’t about to stop. I had to run for my life to avoid being mown down.
Traffic lights – those weapons of mass distraction, delay and danger – how many roads must a man try to cross, before they’re forever banned?
