I peer out the window, staring past the etchings’ that mean nothing,
but everything at the same time. The yellow glow of winter illuminates
this side of the state as we cross the border to the northern most
eastern coast of where I am. My eyes used as a photo lens, from manual
to auto– focusing back and forth from the outside, and to the
condensation.
portrait of my emotions on the glass. Blood Bank, Re:Stacks, The
Wolves, cover the inside of the pane. I keep myself occupied in these
measures, exercising my infancy in the back seat of a mini-van. Its dark now, and nature seems to have won this new year. Its white,
and mellow orange, the only variations of light tones I see.
Headlights, and antique street lights cover the highway. No need to
rush on a night like this, we are not in any hurry. The roads are
covered in mistakes, and I only feel comfortable with where I sit. It
takes a strong sense of geniality to see past this window. In which I
am unsure I process, but I am certain it’s out there. So I will keep
looking…
