The nibbling frosts of late California fall. Sunset alchemy in the skies. Gray and pink marbling sliding across cerulean curtains. Backroads clogged with the ghosts of urgent traffic. A grip of white-tipped bluefeathers flapping North against the breeze. Late. A pause that lasts into your midlife crisis. Frantic activity as a defense against yourself. The time for resting has come early this decade. Again.

3:06 p.m. - 2020-11-11