Banks of mist over fields of cattails among autumn-gold birch trees, all suffused pink as a Technicolor fog machine. A kind of conch-bronze light on the changing hillsides. I just passed a pylon the color of shakudo. I should clearly be awake at this hour more often. The world looks weird.
So beautiful--we all should be up at that hour more often, to see those wonders.
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So beautiful--we all should be up at that hour more often, to see those wonders.