passport control at heathrow airport is the deadest room I’ve ever been in, acoustically speaking. though there are several sections of snaking lines leading up to a long row of desks at the front, any chattering is absorbed into a weighty silence. the only sound that dully resonates the thick hush is the irregular stamping of passports, which seems to come in groups. thump, thump, thump-thump, th-th-thu-thum-thump-ump-ump-mp-p.

all along the dreary ride up the A414, I wanted to take photos of road signs: triangles with exclamation points inside; the equivalent of our yield signs that say give way; mysterious symbols with no obvious meaning.