|
|
Monday October 5, 2020 subscribe |
![site index
[Picture of the Day logo]](../images/cammicro.gif)
smoke is mostly a solid, suspended in sky like sand in turbid water, casts a pall over all, colors the sunset crimson, seeps into lungs like dust in couch cushions, chokes without making a scene, sifts down trachea when you're asleep. so when it finally lifts and drifts off and away to trouble someone else, down- wind and undeserving, no wonder we rush outside, to bask and breathe even if it's still subpar AQI. this guy. 64 & sunny, he thinks it's miami and no one here would disagree. forgive the dutch angle--i shot this from the hip, not wanting to draw attention to myself. everyone's anonymous when you get right down to it. we're here to disappear, and when i ambled back from my p.o. errand, he was gone. the days grow shorter; gonna be a long winter. |
 |
