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September 16, 2011

The rising sun was a wedge, horizontal, practically a rectangle, between the two skies: the misty one immediately over the town, and the gray one further over.

The rising sun was only its traces then, its orange light no longer visible in anything resembling a geometric shape. Rather, the sun, from over here, had become mist and light that peered from behind a gray overhang.

The rising sun then took on the form of plump but very defined rays of light, peering between the houses in that confusing neighborhood, defining their boxy shapes by silhouetting them against the more detailed and colorful neighborhoods further back, past the manmade canyon that falls between the two.