Whenever I go back and forth between Carlisle and Malaga my brain can't avoid engaging in some comparative analysis, especially in the first few days after a trip. As usual, when I get to Carlisle I am struck by the lack of litter and the general sense of tidiness and order. The green lawns, the orderly way cars are parked, and the absence of grafitti contribute to this perception. Generally speaking I perceive these things with admiration, but beneath the surface lurks a sense of conformity and even submissiveness that is quite chilling and disheartening. It seems like nothing outside a very predictable routine happens here. And of course, there is almost no one outdoors. A community of cars.