Then came morningpublished: 2008-12-03
The morning was purple too. It could have been the mist, it could have been the pollution. He liked to think it was mist as it was the lesser of two evils. Usually, mist made him feel oppressed. It limited the scope of the world. Sometimes limitations were good. Within boundaries set by limitations it was easier to find one's own space. Pleasant even if the space had become purple. No, he didn't mind this winter, this purple winter. Not at all.