xaara

Drove back from Minnesota today, miles and miles of cultivated fields and houses clustered around the gas stations.

I love and hate the Midwest. Love its expansive openness, the simplicity of wheat fields. Hate how it all turns into itself eventually, a sloppy watercolor with smudges of green grey blue and always too much sky.

I am waiting for winter, when the sunlight leeches warmth from the air and shatters the lakes into artless strewn glass, shards of metal, mirrors glinting back at the shore.

( A few drabbles that occurred to me on the way )