Monochrome.

White-knuckle driving.

Romulus, MI – Wolf eyes flash red on the bone-bleached horizon as winds curl in crystals over the vacant fields.

Winter has struck.

With better lighting, I’d imagine the air hanging over the highway would make a dazzling chandelier. Instead, the speed limit sign reads like the bottom line of an optometrist’s visit.

Still, shivering branches reach through the ghosts, beckoning us toward our vacation. The sun, however, is but a button, muted, as I whistle along to St. Vincent.

Starting tomorrow, some colour.