boulevard

It’s a lovely evening and you’re strolling along the wide boulevard. People are relaxing and chatting, the birds are singing and a warm breeze is rustling the leaves on the trees. Suddenly, there’s a loud boom and a cannon shot whistles overhead and explodes on the other side. People scream and run for cover as soldiers stream out to return fire. You’ve just walked from the boulevard to its older French manifestation, a passage along a castle rampart, ultimately from the German bolwerk, originally a defence made from tree trunks, from which we get bulwark. Somehow Sunset Bulwark doesn’t sound quite right.