The railway has its boundaries.

Fences, gates and railings tell us where to walk, where to wait, where not to go.

The buddleia has other ideas.

One flowering stem has found its way between the bars, carrying a flash of purple into all that grey.

There is something wonderfully ordinary about it.

No grand act of defiance.
No breaking down of walls.

Just life finding the space available to it.

And flowering there.