The tide is already insanely high here. I’m on a train lancing through the autumnal splendor under a thick grey sky, and it feels like slipping through the dragon’s jaws.
I wouldn’t have felt right if I’d missed the overbearing grey contrasting with the burning vitality of trees sinking into winter. Even a day or two makes its mark in the hungry Yankee heart. NYC just doesn’t get it the same. The parks by my apartment flare brilliantly for a few days but mostly turn yellow and brown. It’s like the trees know they’re a small colony of survivors cut off from the main of nature.
And now, headfirst into the dragon.