The words are painted at intervals along the winding uphill slope of the Bolinas-Fairfax road, block letters in white paint. Most of them are hard to see because they have now been covered with black. Regret is the only one still visible, though I was also able to read a painted-over Anguish as I went by.
This is one of the prettiest roads in a county full of pretty roads, and the words strike me as a melancholy sort of poetry for such a lovely drive. Who wrote them, and why?
Maybe there was an accident, and someone is literally expressing their sentiments on the road. Perhaps the message is directed at a person in particular. Maybe it’s a work of art. One friend is certain the words are the work of a bicyclist, a message for the myriad bikers who sweat up that long hill every weekend. It seems a cruel sort of note to leave for someone engaged in such labor… But sometimes art, and inspiration, can be cruel.
