The weather as it hits the landscape is an unfinished pencil sketch, faint and muted with smudges of cold brushing across the canvas of my skin. It is early morning, but still too light for color. Everything is gray- burnished silvers and fresh charcoals show themselves before the sun’s ascent dulls and chars the view, relegating the world to equal light.
I stop and look for landmarks. I’m familiar with the area, but it’s been ages since I was here, and much has changed. Nature, in her way, has commenced reclaiming the land. The gas station on the corner, where owners in new tweed suits used to ply their Oldsmobile with leaded fuel, is now a tribute to the color brown, covered in withered kudzu and old rust. Looking at it, one doesn’t know whether to feel remorse or relief- so one is left with nothing, as I am now. Continue reading