There was this wasteland site that I walked through each day on my way to work. It lay between the rail track and Old Shettleston Road in Carntyne. People would use it mainly for walking their dogs and for a short-cut to the train station. Last summer on my way through I saw a blazing red bush of berries which I picked and made into fruit compote. The site was mainly open except for a few sections of Heras fencing, through which semi-mature trees had been left to grow.
Then suddenly bulldozers moved in to clear the ground and fence it off. Everything was flattened or pulled up, or both. No-one could get through the space any more and the branches which had grown through the Heras fencing were severed and left as absurd relics to that place. Through the fencing you can still see, but no longer use the desire lines to the train station.
But even more recently new activity has taken place: Fences cut, unauthorized holes made, desire made manifest.